A Touch Of Evil: Book 1 - Shadowbrook
by Ravenclaw Midnight Blue
Summary: Colonial America, 1803. Inspector Jonathan Cooke investigates several bizarre murders around the town of Shadowbrook, but ignores warnings of supernatural forces at work. Luckily, there are other heroes on the case too - including Isabella, Karl, Victor & Katarina. But not all will survive the horrors awaiting them... Based on the board game 'A Touch Of Evil'. Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

_**A Touch Of Evil - Shadowbrook**_

 _For those unfamiliar with 'A Touch Of Evil', this is a supernatural board game, based in the early 19_ _th_ _century and set in the New England colonies of the United States of America, not long after the American War of Independence / The American Revolutionary War._

 _Disclaimer: Jason C Hill & Jack Scott Hill / Flying Frog Productions owns the rights to the main characters, creatures, and game design/features. Any additional characters and ideas are of my creation! No money is being made from this story._

As this involves an American setting, I will try to stick

to American spellings and terms whenever possible.

Themes: drama, horror, action, and adventure – with lots of Mystery (cards).

There will be blood (and death)… You have been warned.

 **Prologue: Murder!**

 **The Crossroads/The Olde Woods:**

The sharp, cruel laughter of the gang of men filled the crisp fall evening air, as the peasant woman panicked and tried to reach her dropped basket.

After being tripped over, the berries she had spent the afternoon gathering from the olde woods had tumbled out – rolling across the road, with several ending up in a cowpat left behind from one of Farmer Hayes's cattle as they had been herded earlier in the day.

The gawky-limbed woman winced. She had taken too much time in the woods. Now it was past sunset, and she had the misfortune to be alone whilst the local ruffians, along with their leader, had decided to have their sport with her.

"Good sirs, let me pass! I need to provide for my sister's family!" the woman protested, in the local accent.

"Hear that, boys? Her sister's family. I did not think you had a family of your own." The ringleader of the thugs smirked, and nodded to his men. Two of them – Rick and Eli – immediately seized their victim's arms. Taking a woodland berry and munching on it with satisfaction, the leader then ran his thumb along the port stain on the trembling woman's face. "Nobody is willing to wed you, are they? Thanks to this…"

"Unhand me, sir!" Summoning what spirit she could, the woman spat at her tormentor – startling both him and his cronies.

Taking a few steps back, the man then froze rigid on the spot. The hooligans shot questioning glances at each other.

They knew that the game had just changed.

An immaculate, white handkerchief was used to wipe away the offending spit. Then it was slowly refolded and put back into the jacket pocket that it had emerged from.

"Oh… You really should not have done that, you wretch…" The words were delivered with a controlled whisper, straight into the ear of the terrified young woman. "We would have been content enough to take half of your berries – but now you will pay for your insolence…" The leader shot his brown-eyed gaze to the third, and last, man of his gang – the only one with his both of his hands still free. "Samuel – remove the skirts from this peasant. She needs to be taught a lesson by me!"

Samuel hesitated. Their games over the preceding summer had never gone as far as this before. Not against a girl, anyway…

"Do as I say, man!"

"Yes, sir," Samuel responded, licking his dry lips as he addressed Eli - and his own brother, Rick. "Alright, lads. Get her down on the grass besides the signpost. Cover up her mouth, whilst I get to work."

"Unable to scream, the wide-eyed woman squirmed and struggled to free herself from the restraining, firm hold of the louts. She tried to bite the hand covering her mouth – but failed to do so. Failed to achieve anything as she was pushed and held down upon the grass mound surrounding the crossroads marker. Then Samuel forcibly removed first her shoes, then her skirt and…

His hands froze as he gripped the sides of her underwear. The sound that had just startled him was that of some large wild animal. Turning, Samuel saw his employer turn rigid as he was about to drop his loosened pants. Hissing angrily, the ringleader quickly pulled up his garments and reapplied his belt. "My pistol. In my jacket, Samuel. Quickly!"

"Yessir!" Samuel obeyed the barked order and started to prod the dropped jacket for the pistol. It was at that same instant that the creature burst out from his cover amongst the foliage at the roadside, and raced towards them…

Everything seemed to happen at once. The men cried out their disbelief and horror. Their victim, now suddenly released from the vice-like grips of her captors, screamed. Samuel's younger brother Rick screamed too as the intruder jumped and landed upon him, its nearest target, like a fleeting shadow made all too real and alarmingly heavy – and instantly slashed his face with its claws. His heart pounding, Samuel turned round and took aim with the flintlock pistol, steadying it in both of his shaking hands. He fired. The boom temporarily deafened the others.

The creature jerked upon the impact, and howled its pain – but it did not fall. Then Rick whipped out from his pants pocket the knife that he had stolen from a man in Tidewater, some months ago. The blade met fur, then flesh…

This time the fiend actually screamed as it pulled back. Snarling, it flung itself at Rick once more – and unleashed its rage.

"Rick!" Samuel managed to cry out, in the second before his brother was torn apart before his disbelieving eyes. Falling backwards and scrambling on his hands and feet in shock, Samuel pushed himself further and further away as far as he could from his sibling's swift mutilation and piercing death cries. He still wasn't quick enough to avoid being splattered with the first outburst of Rick's gushing blood…

His fellows barely managed to overcome their own state of shock. Eli, the largest of their party, now had his own dagger in his hand – and he screamed blue murder as he prepared to drive the blade into the skull of Rick's killer. But the devil was too fast for him, Samuel saw to his horror. With moments, the fangs of the creature – dripping with blood and cartilage torn from Rick's throat – were directed at the big man as they clashed.

"Samuel! Stop her!" his master cried out. He was pulling himself up from the cowpat he had partially fallen into and was starting to sprint after the now-fleeing peasant woman. Instantly, the creature twisted away from Eli and bounded at the ringleader… Immediately, Eli lashed out with his dagger as he chased the fiend.

"I've got the devil, sir! Samuel – you get that girl!" Eli roared.

Samuel nodded in the fading light. Then he turned and bolted after the young woman, who was making her way into the olde woods. Snarls, cries and screams rang out behind him – but he did not look back. Eli would surely overcome the fiend that was attacking their master. Meanwhile, his present duty was plain – to stop his prey from reaching the town of Shadowbrook, where the girl had to be making for. But once amongst the countless trees spread before and around him as he entered the wood, Samuel stopped to regain his breath and gather his shaken wits. His heart was pounding madly from both the run and the horror of seeing Rick being…slaughtered…before him.

Wiping the sweat off his flushed forehead as he straightened up from the tree he had fallen against, Samuel swore under his breath. He could no longer see where his quarry was in the darkened wood, underneath the cloud-leaden skies. He strained his ears – listening for any footsteps upon the fallen yellow leaves that dotted the woods. But he could hear nothing…

" _Aaaggghhh!"_

Samuel jumped with fright. That was the woman all right – her scream coming from beyond the next thicket of trees ahead. Had her foot found a rabbit hole in the gloom, causing her to fall over? Or something worse? There…there wasn't another of those creatures, was there? The fight was still going on behind him.

There was a rustle of wings. An owl? A bat? It sounded as though it was larger. Heavier. And it was coming from where the wretch had screamed…

 _Get hold of her – and bring her back. Then you can aid Eli and his nibs!_ Samuel snapped at himself. Taking a deep breath, he hurriedly slipped on the knuckle duster from his coat pocket, to reassure himself. He had never been beaten in a fight whilst wearing it, after all. Then he ran onwards – passing the trees on either side of him, in order to enter the clearing where…

A hard lump formed in his throat as he spied the peasant woman sprawled on the ground in the middle of the clearing. She was not going to reach the safety of Shadowbrook. That was the only relieved thought that came to Samuel as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. The woman's skin was dry and…

A rasping hiss made his eyes glance to his right. Crouched upon a small boulder, was something even more terrifying than anything else Samuel had bore witness to in the last few minutes.

The final few minutes of his life, as it turned out.

Springing itself off from the boulder, the monster glided straight towards the screaming ruffian as he raised his arms before him, ready to slam his heavy fist into the...thing.

But this time, the knuckle duster was of no use to him at all…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Chapter One:**

" **I Say…"**

"Madam? We are almost there!" the man declared as he gently tapped on the black lace sleeve of his traveling companion.

Isabella von Took stirred from her doze and stretched her long arms – just missing the swiftly-retreating head of the portly man who had disturbed her. She opened her eyes, and allowed her vision to adjust to the morning light that filled the interior of the stage coach from its rear window.

Isabella always sat in a coach so to face the direction she was headed. Traveling in reverse… No. That would never do, she considered – not for the first time. She was a forward-thinking woman, after all. Her servants, however – they were content either way. And as that rather boorish playwright had taken it upon himself to sit besides her, that meant that her handmaiden, Heidi, and her footman, Gustav, had to sit opposite them.

She glanced out of the window to her right, as the coach made a small turn in the road, rocking a little. They were now approaching a covered wooden bridge. At the bottom of the gulley that it spanned over was a medium-sized river.

"The River Shadow, Mr Danforth?" Isabella asked him in her cultured, accented voice as she straightened herself in her seat and steeped the fingers of her hands together.

"Quite so, Madam von Took. Hence the name of the town – Shadowbrook." Victor Danforth puffed his round cheeks out with a degree of satisfaction, as he reflected upon the fact that the lady _had_ been listening to his account of the town he had once visited before, after all. "I will be alighting here."

Isabella nodded curtly. She turned her attention to her servants who both still had their eyes closed, even as the horses slowed to tread over the heavy boards of the covered bridge. Scowling, she loudly clapped her hands before Gustav, then Heidi – startling them.

"We have arrived at the town. I wish to stretch my legs – before we continue onwards to the manor. You may pay the coachman here."

"Uh… Of course, madam. Begging your pardon, my lady, for my tardiness." The gray-whiskered Gustav dipped his head differentially to his mistress. Heidi did so, as well.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in what Isabella supposed what passed for the main street of the town. There were several buildings along both side of the thoroughfare, and her sharp eyes took in the sights and sounds of the townsfolk after the white-bearded coachman helped her down to the thankfully-firm, dry ground.

As she left Mr Danforth and the driver to sort out his luggage from the roof of the carriage, Gustav stepped down also, and reached into his coat pocket for his mistress's purse. In the meantime, Isabella drew her traveling coat around her, to keep the damp of the morning chill away. Her narrowed eyes took in the center of Shadowbrook, as now and then she turned her head around – rather in the manner of a long-necked crane.

They had stopped near a 'T' junction, along the busier, widest street in the town, with a large brick and mortar building on the northern side, set apart from anything else, close to them. Several other buildings and warehouses lined up along both sides of the cobbled thoroughfare. A minute's observation of the locals, some of them of unkempt attire and questionable appearance, soon led the noblewoman to identify which of the buildings were shops – whilst a ramshackle two storey building further along was, she deduced, the tavern that Mr Danforth was headed for. He had told her that it was the only one in the town.

Close to them, on this side of the street was what passed for the coach station. Next to that was, according to the sign hanging above the front door, the mail office.

Glancing along the side street that led south from the T-junction, Isabella saw several of the workmen yards. But also a low, long, single-storey building set back from the street. The noise of children playing during what had to be their break time, led her to realize that it was the town's school.

There were several people passing by close to them, coming from both directions. They seemed to represent an overall cross-section of the different classes and local occupations. One man, judging by his uniform, seemed to be a soldier. Another pair of men, talking to each other outside the brick and mortar building seemed to be of some importance – judging by their fine clothes and lacy neck ruffs. Another man, dressed in the uniform of what had to be the local militia, was engaged in conversation with them. Whilst underneath a tree close to her, a man and a woman – both wearing tricorn hats and breeches – had just nodded to each other, before the woman started slowly walking along the side of the street and was about to pass the coach. Isabella's eyes narrowed in distaste – the young woman was wearing gray-colored pants and sturdy shoes. A man's clothing!

Seeing this, the woman stopped and stared straight back at Isabella. She idly wiped aside a lock of copper-colored hair that had decided to dangle in front of her eye. "Do we know each other, madam?" she challenged her in a bold tone.

"I very much doubt it," Isabella answered back, her lip curling with disdain. Still, a part of her was fascinated. This…woman…was a rare type indeed.

"Find someone else to stare at, then!" the tricorn-hatted woman announced curtly, glancing to a point over Isabella's shoulder.

"I say! That's no proper language for a lady!" Victor Danforth straightened himself up, as he put his suitcase down on the ground once more to admonish her.

"Watch o-!" Isabella didn't get to finish her warning. The tricorn-hatted man from underneath the tree sprung from behind Victor and slammed into him, knocking the startled, rotund playwright staggering forward as he tried to prevent himself from falling down. Instead, he crashed into Isabella, and they both collapsed.

An instant later, the man snatched Victor's purse from his belt. Then he bolted off, heading east. As Victor's cry of 'Thief!' rang out through the air, Isabella managed to glimpse the thief's female partner leap at Gustav. The old servant yelled as he was pushed into a nearby water trough. Then his mistress's purse was also snatched.

"Stop! In the name of the law!"

As Isabella and Victor managed to disentangle themselves from each other, they both saw the trio of men from across the street racing in-between the passing horses and carts.

The copper-haired woman hissed. Then she sprinted off in a different direction to her partner – heading south along the side street instead. The militia man blew his whistle.

"Hurry, Captain Townsend! Don't let that darned Shadow escape us again!" the bearded man with the lacy ruff yelled out, as he and his colleague ran after the male thief.

"I know! But the young woman…," the Captain of the Guard called back.

"Allow me to help."

Now it was bearded soldier who spoke. He had dashed over to Isabella and he now quickly helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, Mr…"

"Harrison. Karl Harrison. But excuse me, whilst I try to stop your lady thief." He promptly dashed after the disappearing figure of the woman Isabella was already thinking of as Copperhead.

The Captain looked at the departing female thief for a moment, considering. His whistle had alerted another of the militia further along the street, who had turned and was now barring the way with his musket. The fugitive skidded to a halt in alarm – and then she dashed towards the school.

"Are you not going after her…?" Isabella started to ask.

He shook his head. "The Scarlet Shadow carries the larger price on his head. Excuse me, my lady…" And with that, he raced eastwards – after his two colleagues and the…Scarlet Shadow.

"Heidi – help Gustav up!" Isabella snapped at her handmaiden.

"Yes, mistress." The chubby-faced, Germanic girl instantly came forward to assist the spluttering footman. "But where are you going, my la-?"

Having pulled up her long skirt away from her shoes, Isabella was already running south with her long legs – keen to get her money back. The theft was a shock, yes – but the thrill of the chase was too tempting to stay put…

"Why should MEN get to have all the fun?" she shouted back, with a hard smile on her lips.

Meanwhile, due to his girth, Victor was still having difficulty getting back upon his feet. "What about me!?" he cried out, in his indignation.

The old coachman sighed and stepped forward to grab the fat playwright's arms.

"Git hold of my hands, mister…," he demanded.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Anne Marie sighed as she regarded the two ten-year old children sat before her in her classroom. Glancing away for a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes ran over the wooden desks, the large wall atlas on one wall, a map of the established American colonies, and the various flower and plant pots lined up along the sunniest window sill.

Underneath a clock, a calendar that Anne Marie had got the children to collectively make was displaying 'Thursday, October 27th'.

When she had arrived in Shadowbrook and started her job as a schoolmistress in the spring, only a few months ago, she had encouraged her pupils to grow a flower or plant of their choice, and to take pride in looking after them – but now the cooler weather and muted colors of the fall had gradually smothered the happier moods of her young charges. But there was more to it, than just the change of the sessions, as she had just discovered from the boy and girl before her.

"Why did you 'ave to upset Gillian during the story-telling session, Ross? This story…of this Shadow Witch…it is not nice, non?"

"Sorry, Miss." The ginger-haired boy replied in what Anne Marie had learnt to be a faint Scottish accent, having copied his parents' manner of speaking. He bowed his head as he stared at his shoes. "But it's what the other boys and girls are whispering to each other. 'Tis nearly one year on from when that bad lady was hanged, just outside the town hall, Miss. My father was there, right? He heard her promise to return from the grave!"

"But that is stupid! How can a ghost kill my pet pig? That is what Ross was telling me," wailed Gillian, as she wiped at her tears. "And my parents would not let me even see her, after they found her dead last weekend! They didn't even bury her in our garden. Why would Captain Townsend and his men take her remains away in a box…?"

Anne Marie gave Gillian a quick squeeze. "Shush… There, there, petit cher. Animals, even pet animals… They do sometimes die suddenly. I am certain that a rational explanation exists…" She paused and gave a meaningful glance at Ross. "What do you have to say to Gillian, mon fil?"

Ross swallowed his pride and looked directly at the dark-haired girl. "I am sorry for scaring and upsetting you with that dumb story, Gillian."

She sniffed and managed a small smile.

"Friends again?" Ross held out his right hand. Gillian paused, and then shook it.

"All right."

Anne Marie smiled in relief. "Tres bon! Now you may play with the others in the courtyard." She patted their shoulders.

Nodding, the boy and girl left the classroom together. Seconds after they disappeared from her sight, the schoolmistress wiped the blackboard, before letting loose a breath of exasperation. Although she had not been in the town that long, Anne Marie could sense the mood amongst the locals changing. The cheer that the summer had brought with it had vanished. The last of the harvest crops and fruit were now in the process of being gathered – after that, the months of winter lay before them.

But there was more to it than that. The conversation with Gillian and Ross echoed nervous whispers that she had caught between the schoolmaster and the town elders, and of loose talk she had managed to filter out whilst walking the streets in the evening for exercise after being cooped up with her work. Talk of animals being killed. Mysterious shapes being seen in the darkness on the edge of town. Glowing eyes…

She was not sure what to make of it all. Anne Marie prided herself on being level-headed and pragmatic. Having no reason to venture forth in the countryside at night, she had not experienced anything strange herself – and she did not want to be too judgmental without knowing all of the facts. And yet, she was sure there was still much in the world that could be explained. Science and education were the keys. She, along with the other teachers, would play her role in preparing the children for their adult lives armed with reason – not blind faith and prejudice when it came to matters such as…witchcraft.

Anne Marie was startled from her brooding by the noise coming from the front door to the school. Someone was knocking – urgently.

Frowning, she brushed back a chocolate-brown strand of hair from her attractive face and hurried to the front door. Unbolting it, she then opened up…

In an instant, she was seized by the strange-looking young woman before her – who grabbed her by the stiff white collar of her gray dress. The cry on Anne Marie's lips died away before it could reach a scream as her wide eyes took in the pistol pointed at her.

"Morning, madam… Sorry to butt in! Need a place to hide," the copper-haired young woman declared. Immediately, the intruder pushed the schoolmistress back and slammed the door to. "Bolt it. Don't scream," she instructed, pointing at the door with her gun.

Heart pounding, Anne Marie swallowed nervously and obeyed the outlaw. But seconds later, they heard the pounding of someone running towards them. The door knob was twisted. Then the door was knocked on.

"I know you are in there! Surrender now – and you won't be harmed!" came a man's voice.

Moments later, another pair of feet could be heard approaching – this time a lighter tread. A woman, who was slightly out of breath, spoke to the man. "Well, then. What do you propose to do, Mr Harrison?" she asked.

"Hmm… Well, let us pull away from this door so that she cannot hear us. She may be armed, too," the man considered. The two voices soon fell silent, and the footsteps faded away.

"So much for hiding…" The female outlaw rolled her eyes. She grabbed hold of Anne Marie by the shoulder with her left hand, whilst her right held the pistol. "Got a back way I can use sharpish, madam?"

"Mademoiselle…" Anne Marie corrected her.

"A French Miss, eh? Never mind. Now I know this is a school, with children playing. I don't want to be any trouble for you. Just show me the back of the property, so that I can leave quickly…"

Anne Marie nodded briskly, feeling only slightly reassured. "Bon. Allon ze."

"Come again?"

The school mistress sighed. "I said 'follow me'. Please… Please do not harm or scare the children! Zey are becoming frightened enough… The attacks on the local animals…"

"I do not wish to scare the schoolchildren either. So this is what we will do…" The intruder forcibly turned Anne Marie around and slipped her left arm around the teacher's left shoulder. Underneath the cover of her travelling jacket, she pointed her pistol at Anne Marie – briefly jabbing her in the ribs to make the point.

"We are going to take a quick, friendly walk to the back of your school property, Miss. No need for anyone to be scared or get hurt. All right?"

Anne Marie gave a short, agitated nod. "D'accord."

"Stick to English, please."

"Pardon. When I get nervous – which ees often… I revert to my native language."

"I get you. Still, let's get this done with quickly. Then I won't have to frighten you anymore…"

And, so with Anne Marie guiding the way, the two ladies marched in close quick-step along the corridor to the back door. But as the school mistress opened it up to reveal the yard, where the children were playing – attended by another teacher – the outlaw yelped in alarm. The soldier called 'Mr Harrison' had just presented himself from around the corner of the building.

"How did you…?" the fugitive blurted out.

"Climbed over the locked gate to the yard." Karl Harrison's small grin vanished as he saw the outlaw produce the pistol, which was at first pointed towards him – and then quickly directed at the jaw of the frightened frog-marched teacher.

"Stay where you are, mister!" The thief turned herself and Anne Marie around quickly – still keeping the teacher close to her, as they swiftly headed back towards the front door. Only to confront the tall, dark-haired noble woman whose purse she had stolen.

"How did you…!?" the female outlaw spat once more.

"Skeleton key. Getting past doors is a useful little habit of mine, Miss Copperhead…" Isabella smirked as she dangled her key in the air, before slipping it up one of her dark lacy sleeves. Her expression hardened as she took a step forward. "My purse. Return it to me, thief. Now."

"Don't come any nearer!" the outlaw warned her, raising her pistol.

"You are Katarina Clark, are you not?" the soldier asked as he slowly approached from behind, palm held outwards.

"And what if I am?" Katarina snapped, spinning round – keeping her weapon trained firmly on whoever was drawing closer to her. She was visibly sweating now, the soldier noticed.

"Well, since you are, I suspect that you don't want to hurt anyone here," Harrison remarked. "So why not put down your weapon…"

"…or my purse," Isabella added tartly.

"Look! A girl's gotta eat. I need the money!" Katarina raised her voice. "Just keep back, before I shoot…"

"You will not shoot," Karl announced with certainty.

"How can you be sure, monsieur…?" Anne Marie gasped.

"Miss Clark's palm must be sweating by now – and yet she is handling the pistol very skillfully. I suspect that is because it is actually not loaded." Karl's eyes scrutinized Katarina's surprised expression. "I see that I am right. So…kindly surrender yourself, Miss – before I have to be tough on you."

Katarina sighed with a smirk. "All right…" Suddenly, she shoved a shrieking Anne Marie into Karl, catching them both off-guard. As they fell to the floor, Katarina leapt over them and then pelted for the rear door. Isabella sprang after her – and, catching up – tackled Katarina to the floor. She managed to pluck her purse from behind where it was tucked behind the outlaw's belt, before the butt of the pistol struck the side of her head with moderate impact.

As Katarina pushed the dazed noble woman off her and scrambled to her feet, she found herself confronted by Karl – who was now straightening himself up. Quickly, she swung her booted foot at his calf, and the solider yelled as he was swept back down to the stone floor.

As he glanced back up, Karl saw the thief wink mischievously at him.

Leaving her dropped pistol behind, Katarina then bolted for the door to the school yard once more. Bursting out into the open air, and startling the children and the monitoring lady teacher, the outlaw raced towards the back wall. Finding some handholds in the crumbling brick, she expertly climbed the two-meter high barrier, and slipped herself over to freedom…

Back inside the corridor of the school building, Anne Marie was brushing down her skirt as she got to her feet. Examining the wound on the groaning noblewoman's head, she hurried off towards the kitchen. "I will fetch a sponge and water!" she cried out.

Karl nodded and picked up the pistol Katarina Clark had left behind, testing its weight. Opening it confirmed his suspicions.

"No bullets. As I thought," he declared.

One of Isabella's hands was felt her throbbing head. Her free hand squeezed the purse that she had managed to regain. "This feels…light…as well," she grumbled.

Karl opened it up for her. "She has already emptied it! The crafty vixen." He turned to Isabella. "I am sorry, madam. I have failed you."

She regarded him with her scrutinizing eyes. "Nevertheless, Mr Harrison, I appreciate your efforts. Perhaps you will get another chance to track Miss Clark down…"

"Perhaps." Karl knelt down besides the noblewoman, and pulled out something from the satchel that hung from his shoulder. Isabella saw that it was a jar of white ointment, which the soldier opened up.

"This will help to treat the swelling of your injury, Madam…?"

"Isabella von Took. And I will treat the injury myself, Mr Harrison. Thank you." Her long, thin fingers dipped into the ointment, just as Anne Marie – now aided by the School Master himself – returned with the promised sponge and water…

Later on, as Karl left to fetch Isabella's servants, Anne Marie was left alone to treat Isabella, who was still on the floor in the corridor – though now with a cushion to support her treated head. The children had now been informed of the assault by Mr Birch, their schoolmaster – before being sent home.

"I am sorry that your arrival to this town has not been a happy one, Madam von Took," Anne Marie lamented, as she introduced herself by her forenames. "Were you staying here?"

"In a sense. I am destined for Hanbrook Manor – just three miles further on. I have traveled from the south… From Boston," Isabella answered.

"Then you arrived via the crossroads? I 'ave heard some tragedy has occurred there last night! Did you see…?"

"No." Isabella frowned. I was dozing until my coach reached the covered bridge. Mr Danforth was the only passenger awake at the time. He did not say anything to me of any…tragedy."

"Mr Danforth? Victor Danforth – the playwright? He is in town?" Anne Marie clapped her hands together and smiled. "I 'ave read a couple of his plays. They are good…witty. Would you agree?"

"I am unfamiliar with his work."

"Oh…" Anne Marie changed tack. "Pardon my curiosity, madam… But you have business at Hanbrook Manor? You have been there before?"

"This is my first visit. But Lady Hanbrook and I are old school friends. She has invited me over to her daughter's birthday party."

"Ahh… I see. Miss Lucy. From what little I 'ave seen of her, she is pretty and kind and courteous to the townsfolk."

" 'The townsfolk'… Not 'us townsfolk'?" Isabella gave a sly smile. You are new to Shadowbrook yourself?"

"Oui. I arrived last Easter. The last French teacher disappeared without warning, I understand. She has not been found – and so I have been allocated her house, upon acceptance of my new post. I previously taught in Vermont, and…"

Isabella raised a thin finger. "Tell me what you know about this tragedy that you mentioned, Anne Marie."

"I 'ave only heard from Monsieur Birch that there are bodies at the crossroads. Covered up by the militia, whilst an Inspector is awaited. He passed the scene on horse from his home at Brooksvane – the village you passed through on the Boston road, to arrive here."

"Interesting… Is this town previously known for such violence?"

Anne Marie paused, wondering how much she should tell the newcomer in her care. But she not made many friends since arriving in Shadowbrook, due to her shy, reticent nature. And her habits of burying herself in her work – and her books. Anne Marie simply loved to read. Teaching herself more English. Reading about local history and fantastical fiction… It provided escape for her from the harshness of daily life.

And so, deciding to trust the noblewoman, Anne Marie told her all that she had learnt about the deaths, in the last few months, of the occasional cow or sheep being killed – and how little Gillian's pig had suddenly died. "Ze people are gossiping," she admitted. "They are saying that the Shadow Witch is somehow responsible. That she threatened to return upon the first anniversary of her hanging."

"Indeed? And when is that?"

A flicker of fear crept into Anne Marie's expression. "Zis very week. In four days time. On All Hallows Eve."

"Oh, vhy lady! Is there anything I can do for you?" Heidi, Isabella's maid, suddenly ran over to them – accompanied by Gustav, Victor Danforth and a militia guard.

"Fear not, Heidi. I am feeling recovered. Help me up…" With Heidi's assistance, Isabella managed to get back upon her feet after only a brief dizziness. She nodded to the schoolmistress. "It has been good to meet you Anne Marie. But I do not know your surname…"

"Piaget, Madam von Took. Now that your servants are here, please excuse me."

"You may call me Isabella, Anne Marie. I think we will be seeing each other before long, if this…trouble…continues. For now, good day to you."

Nodding, Anne Marie took her leave. It was only later, that she reflected that Isabella had told her little about herself…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Isabella turned to Victor. "Mr Danforth… Did you see any bodies besides the roadside on the way into town, per chance?"

The playwright's chubby, goatee-bearded face turned pale and he nervously coughed. "I… I did, Madam von Took. A pair of covered bodies. But as all three of you were dozing… Well, it is not the correct form to awake and alert strangers to…"

Gustav gently pushed Victor aside as he stepped forward, his whiskered moustache twitching as if it had a life of its own. "The militia – along with their Inspector and sergeant – has caught the man who stole from Mr Danforth here. They have returned his money to him," he spoke up.

"How fortunate for you, Mr Danforth – compared to myself," Isabella remarked dryly. "And of the coachman? Is he still able to transport us to Hanbrook Manor? If so, we must carry on!"

"Yes… Er, I say… Considering your circumstances… I had to pay your fare as well as my own," Victor muttered. "If I could…"

Isabella arched a dark eyebrow at him. "…be reimbursed later?"

"Er… Yes," Victor admitted.

"I'll consider it."

"Thank you, my lady... I think."

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Crossroads/The Olde Woods:**

With the Scarlet Shadow having been taken away to the town jail, after he and Sergeant Allardyce had successfully tackled the fugitive thief to the ground before he could reach the brook, Inspector Jonathan Cooke got back onto his horse and took the reins. With his mounted sergeant riding alongside, the two men followed Captain Townsend on his own gray charger.

The street turned into the road that passed through the covered bridge over the River Shadow. The morning sky was mainly cloudy, and Cooke's keen eyes swept the horizon before him. The coast was a few miles away in that direction, and there was the promise of rain – judging by the darker gray to the east. The weather, at the least, would be turning damper by the evening, he judged – maybe with mist or fog.

After about half an hour, having just past a large stretch of woodland on their right, the Captain of the Watch brought his horse to a stop – and Cooke and Allardyce pulled up alongside. They were at the crossroads now – where several of the militia was now at hand. Three of the uniformed men straightened themselves from their bored, slouched positions and came forward to attend to the three horses as their owners jumped down, each man being careful to avoid not only the scattered puddles and cowpats but also the ominous bloodstains that were still present to one side of the road.

Cooke took in the sight of the numerous other horses present at the edge of the woods. Some of them were of better pedigree than the ordinary work horses allocated to the militia, therefore…

"Who else is here, Captain?" he asked sharply.

"Several of the town elders, sir," Townsend replied. "They are currently gathered around the body of the woman that we found in what we call the olde woods. Do you wish to start your examination here, or there?"

Cooke considered this. "Here, I think. I will speak to your elders when we have seen and discovered all that we can."

"This way, then, sirs." Townsend led Cooke and Allardyce to the two forms presently covered from view by blankets that had been widely spread out.

As Cooke placed his bag of equipment on a clean stretch of grass close by, Townsend nodded and another, younger, militia soldier walked up to place a third blanket on the ground besides the first body.

"For your benefit, sir," the dark-haired soldier declared.

"Thank you! Now… If you will kindly pull back the covering blanket for me…"

"Prepare yourself, sir. Begging your pardon – but… some of the lads have already been sick," the soldier murmured. "Not besides the bodies of course – they managed to get to the other side of the road, before…"

"I see!" Cooke shot him a raised eyebrow.

"The doctor's made of sterner stuff. He hasn't moved anything out of place, but he's already made his examination," the man added.

"Without waiting for us… Very well. Let us see the damage, Mister…?"

"Summersby, sir. But most people call me Ben." And with that, Ben lifted the blanket from the first body – first the face, and then, carefully, from the rest of the corpse.

 _Dear Lord…_

Cooke took a deep breath and fought to keep his breakfast down. He was not sure if he actually believed in a god, or in the son of God. As a general rule, he believed in a few certainties – that mankind was, at times, the cruelest race of beings upon the earth; and that logic and science were the foundation of his work. They were the key to solving any mystery if the investigators were careful and persistent enough in their work.

This case, however, was already starting to present itself as a challenge…

Apart from a deep slash mark, the face of the dead man was intact. Which was more than could be said for his body in general. Although things may well have been left in place, the deceased had been torn apart into three parts.

"Do you have any buckets, Ben?" Cooke asked him, as he took off his coat and handed it to the uncomfortable-looking Allardyce. "Yes? Good. I will need clean water in order to rinse my examination tools when I have finished here."

"I'll fetch the buckets that the doctor had, sir. The lads should have washed them out by now. Excuse me." Ben jogged over to a nearby thicket of tree that lay next to a pond. When he returned, along with another militia soldier, with the fresh water, the Inspector got to work with his gloves, magnifying glass, sharp scissors, and pliers…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Minutes later, having finished his gruesome examination, Cooke let loose his growing tension as he turned away from the re-covered bodies, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Quickly washing his tools and rinsing his leather gloves before putting everything away, he slipped his long coat back on – and then he studied the ground around the scene of the brutal deaths. Cooke stroked his pointed goatee chin, looking disturbed.

"Best not to keep the elders waiting sir," Ben advised him.

"Very well. Sergeant – I will leave you to examine that squashed cowpat for evidence," the Inspector instructed his second-in-command. "I will go and speak to the town elders who are present."

Allardyce grimaced, but sighed and nodded. Meanwhile, Cooke was following Ben as the dark-haired, younger man briskly walked into the olde woods, confidently carrying his musket with one hand. Now and then the Inspector paused to read the occasional visible footprint in the ground close by…

The four men were in a clearing where a thick tree had fallen over long ago. Their horses were some yards off to the side and attended by a militia soldier and two servants from the manor, or so Cooke determined, judging from their clothing. One servant was a thin-haired, sullen-looking fellow – whilst the other, a wiry, white-headed man with a moustache, scrutinized Cooke with sharp gray eyes.

"So, Inspector. You are here at last!"

Cooke's heart sank. The speaker was the portly, egg-faced man – the eldest of the four. Dressed in hunting clothes, sturdy shoes, and with lacy-trimmed shirt cuffs, there was no doubting who this was – despite this being their first meeting.

 _Make sure that you do not give him an excuse to jibe you again…,_ Cooke silently told himself.

"My apologies for keeping you all waiting, Lord Hanbrook. I wanted to examine the bodies before reporting to you." He swept his eyes across the other men. "Firstly, you may be unaware that my first duty to your town has been fulfilled. Earlier this morning, my sergeant and I helped Captain Townsend to capture the persistent thief that your council summoned me to Shadowbrook to apprehend."

"The Scarlet Shadow has been caught? Alive?" The lean, fair-haired man with a growling voice and a ruddy complexion looked startled. "He evaded my traps and men for months – and you have caught the scoundrel after being in the locality after only a day!?"

Cooke resisted the urge to snap back. He had already met this elder once before, and did not care for his blunt manner or for the faint whiff of perfume that clung to the landowner. Instead, the Inspector shrugged. "After making a quick study of the Scarlet Shadow's chosen places to rob people, my sergeant and I waited until this morning's coach from Boston arrived. We were lucky to see the man's latest audacious robbery as the travelers disembarked." Cooke paused, and then continued. "Unfortunately, his female compatriot evaded us. But the Scarlet Shadow is now behind bars in your town's jail, gentlemen!"

"We are pleased to hear it, Inspector. And so this villain will now face justice on earth, before Magistrate Kroft – before having to answer for his crimes before God." The latest speaker was a man in his fifties, who wore a white wig and dark clothing. He had a sour expression underneath his thick, dark eyebrows – and he looked, Cooke decided, as though he had swallowed something that had disagreed with him. Furthermore, that the offending item had permanently resided within him.

"Quite so, Elijah," Lord Hanbrook spoke up. He turned to Cooke – and this time his tone was more even. "But we digress from the matter at hand, Inspector. Now, I have only recently returned from business elsewhere, so introductions are in order. As you have rightly deduced, I am Lord Hanbrook. My friend here who you have beaten in capturing the Shadow is…"

"…Major Lucien Bruckner. We have already met your lordship. Yesterday," Cooke interjected as he and the Major nodded curtly to each other.

"I see. Well, let me introduce you to the Reverend Harding and Doctor Manning, instead," Lord Hanbrook concluded.

As they rose from their seats upon the fallen log, Cooke shook hands with the darkly-attired vicar and the bespectacled medical man, who wore a lace ruff similar to Cooke's, over his white-and-green patterned coat. Harding's handshake was stiff, as if unused to greeting people – whilst the doctor's was firm. He did not smile, though. Instead, his eyes were weighing their visitor up.

"So, Inspector… Before you see the final body, close by, what conclusions have you reached so far?" asked Doctor Manning. His tone was measured and no-nonsense. Clipped even.

"He wants to compare observations, you understand," Bruckner snorted, with a brief smirk.

"Very well. As far as I can read the footprints and other evidence present, something along the lines of the following happened, gentlemen. There was a gathering of men at the crossroads at some point during the night. Some wild animal attacked them, and ripped two men apart with a ferocity that I am struggling to accept. But there was one man, maybe two other men, also present. I could see signs of his footprints heading in this direction – and yet…"

"And yet, what?" Major Bruckner narrowed his eyes.

"I think he was fleeing away from the attack with a woman - or perhaps chasing after her. One of his footprints had imprinted upon hers." Cooke stroked his beard again, out of habit. "Have you been able to identify the bodies, doctor?"

"I…believe…one of the deceased is Richard Shaw. A cart maker who works in Shadowbrook. The other – the larger man…"

"…is one of my farm workers, Eli Bunt," the Major spoke up. "Whatever struck him down would have had to be ferocious indeed. Bunt was one of the strongest men I have ever met – even considering my experience of able-bodied men in the army."

"I see. But there is another body to see?"

"Indeed. But what we are about to show you must not be revealed to anyone else, other than your sergeant. It is…more horrible…than the slaughtered men you have already examined, Inspector. Do we have your discretion to count on?" Doctor Manning challenged him.

Cooke paused, and then nodded. "Of course, doctor."

"This way, then." Manning turned and led the Inspector out of the clearing. Cooke noticed that Bruckner strode alongside him – whilst the Reverend and his lordship remaining in the clearing.

Seconds later, the three men arrived in another clearing beyond a thicket of trees. There was another pair of sheet-shrouded forms present – both on the ground, feet away from each other. Doctor Manning walked briskly over to one and pulled back the sheet.

Cooke sharply drew in his breath.

"This… _was_ …one of the local residents – Agnes Agnew," Doctor Manning remarked, his eyes glinting with… Well, Cooke could not tell what emotion it was. Instead, he knelt down by the young woman's corpse and felt the skin with his fingers, confirming what he was seeing.

Agnes's face-up body was now gray-skinned and shriveled. The soft tissues had dried up, and her still-open eyes and mouth were permanently frozen open in a ghastly expression of pure terror. Her clothes had not been affected – but her form was almost-skeletal. She had apparently tried to fend off her attacker with her arms, which were now slumped on the ground on either side of her head. Cooke carefully lifted one arm up with his hand – it felt limp, yet rose easily. The bone mass made somehow lighter, perhaps, he speculated.

His head swam in confusion. Up until this point, Cooke had considered that some wild animal had been the only culprit involved… But now. Was this…murder? Who could have desecrated this woman's body in such a hideous manner – and why?

He breathed in deeply to steady himself and glanced at the woods directly before him. Only the trees seemed endless, with too many shadows between them – even during the daytime. Suddenly the peaceful woods seemed to have become a forest that was too devoid of sound, of any life other than the men intruding upon it. It had become a forest of death…

"How were the bodies found?" Cooke sharply asked the elders who were with him. "And how did you learn of this?"

"One of our militia patrols came across the dead men, this morning – I understand," Bruckner declared. "The alert was raised upon them returning to town. I was then informed by Summersby. He rode out to my estate, where I was."

"I was with Lord Hanbrook and Reverend Harding at the Town Hall, when he and I were informed," Manning added. "When we got here, Captain Townsend was able to identify the dead two men. However, he knew that they and another man, Samuel Shaw – Richard Shaw's brother – were often together upon certain evenings, and we wondered if they had come to blows for some reason. They were known as…occasional troublemakers. So we searched the area."

"And with my tracking skills, his Lordship and I found footprints leading from the dead men to this site," Bruckner growled. "Now we need to learn what has happened! Who – or what – has killed these three people. And why someone has made…" He stopped. Cooke saw that the Major's fists were clenched in anger. "My apologies, gentlemen. As I have said, Eli Bunt was one of my best workers. To see him…like that… Torn apart! I want whatever killed him, to be put down!"

"I understand, Major." Cooke kept his voice calm. "But…what did you mean by 'someone has made'…?"

Bruckner visibly fought to regain his composure. Then he turned and sharply pulled away the blanket covering the other shape on the ground.

Cooke's eyes widened, seeing the statue of a crawling, screaming man before him. The detail was remarkable – the short-cropped hair, a rip in the pants around one knee, the raised arm frozen before the face, the detail of the drawn-back lips and exposed stone teeth.

"I mean, Inspector Cooke, why has someone made a life-sized statue of my missing man – Samuel Shaw!?" the Major snarled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

 **Party Invitation**

 **The Crossroads:**

Some time later, with the elders now riding back to Shadowbrook – Inspector Cooke returned to speak with Sergeant Allardyce. Cooke made sure that they were alone – with no one else in earshot, before he spoke.

"Found out anything, sergeant?"

Allardyce gave a nod and led his superior along a narrow wooded trail leading north from the road, giving his report as they walked.

"Someone slipped in the mud on the road, sir. I found a mark in the nearby cowpat, as though someone had landed into it. Not heavily – possibly just their arm…

"There are spots of blood along here," Cooke observed, crouching down to examine the ground."

"That's right, sir. Now look into this pond."

Taking care with his footing, Cooke descended the sharp slope from the trail to the small pond, and examined the water. It was discolored with a reddish-brown stain in places – and there were clear signs that someone had jumped into the pond from the direction of the trail, before staying for a while in the nearby undergrowth on the far side. Some of the leaves were missing from a low branch.

"So – someone landed in the muck, probably during the animal attack. And then they fled, injured, from the scene?" Cooke suggested. "Perhaps he bathed his wound, and used the leaves as a makeshift bandage?"

Allardyce leered. "He wouldn't have been pleasant quarry for this…beast…to track down, with that stink – blood marks or not, sir. But by the time he had his wash… Well, his wet footprints carry on towards the brook before drying up…"

"…giving him another chance to wash his scent. It seems as though we still have a living witness. Good work, my man! We had better get a map of the area, sergeant. And see if the brook can be crossed further on. Mr Summersby and some of the militia are still at both scenes of the murders – let us see if they can assist us track this missing man of ours."

Allardyce straightened himself to attention. " _Both_ _scenes_ of the murders, sir?"

Cooke sighed. "Let me tell you about the woman Major Bruckner and the elders found. And what else I saw there. I have already issued orders to the militia …"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

Karl Harrison emerged from his tree cover as the guard left on duty disappeared to relieve himself.

Having left his knapsack and water behind the trees, he was able to move silently across the clearing. Indeed, silence was the watchword. Even at this late part of October, he had expected there to be some birds present to make occasional noises– but the woods seemed to be bleak, almost dead.

 _Just as well it's daylight. I cannot make many observations in the dark…,_ he thought to himself as he stroked his beard. One of the bodies had been taken away on a stretcher by the militia just as he had arrived on the scene. But the other covered form was still here…

Karl pulled it back, and beheld the crawling statue image of Samuel Shaw. Startled and mesmerized, he examined it carefully – right down to the detail of the clothes and the hands…

"What do yur thin' yur playing at?" came the gruff voice behind him.

Karl turned round – and raised his hands above his head at the sight of the guard's pistol being aimed at him.

"My apologies, sir." Karl smiled, fighting to keep his demeanor calm despite the unexpected quick return of the armed man. "I was just traveling through, when I heard the commotion. I was just having a look at this statue…"

"Keep yur hands off it! How long 'ave you been sneaking about?"

"Jus' a few minutes. I saw him arrive. In fact he came with me!" A reedy voice spoke out behind the guard, who turned round and took in the small man with the brown-colored jacket and pants, and white tunic. Slung over his right shoulder and hanging by his left hip was a circular knapsack – whilst slung in the opposing manner was a softer satchel for storing documents. The newcomer's brown hair was pulled back from his forehead and tied into a short knot at the back. The most prominent feature about him, however, was…

"Quit lookin' at my damn eye!" he bristled.

The guard stepped back, startled at the other man's face. There was a vivid scar running down from the shorter fellow's forehead which ended at his cheek. The left eye was dead – the pupil turned upwards as to be nearly invisible, leaving the white area exposed…

Recovering his wits, the guard tightened his grip on his gun. "No trespassers are allowed here! Who are you men?" With his free hand, he reached for the whistle hanging around his neck.

"Relax. We're nobody." The short man gave a crooked grin, and opened his hand to reveal several coins. "Now – what did your friends just take away?"

The guard slowly lowered his gun and stared at the offered money. He huffed and eventually came to a decision.

"Thomas…," Karl started to rebuke the one-eyed man.

But Thomas ignored him and dropped the coins into the open hand of the militia guard, who counted them. Nodding with satisfaction, he pocketed his unexpected gain.

"It was the body of a dead woman. I recognized her. Just about. Name of Agnes Agnew," the guard muttered.

"Just about?" Karl frowned.

The guard described the state of her body which he had seen before the blanket had arrived to cover her up.

"Dear Lord… And what is the story behind this statue?" Karl pressed the man.

"Found right where it is now. Jus' a few feet from the woman. The Inspector has ordered for a stout cart to come here and carry it back to town. Jus' waiting for it now. The other bodies are being taken away…"

Karl felt a shiver run through him. "What other bodies?"

The now-silent guard glanced meaningfully at Thomas, who grinned at Karl.

"Your turn, matey." Thomas patted his pouch as a hint.

Sighing, Karl pulled out some coins and gave them to the guard, who raised his free hand to the brim of his tricorn hat in acknowledgement. He then told the intruders all that he knew regarding the discovery of the bodies of Eli Bunt and Richard Shaw.

"This statue is a dead ringer for Rick's brother, Samuel. Why anyone would want 'im to pose for art, I ain't got a clue. Rather it'd been a young lady's statue to admire - if you get my drift, gentlemen," the guard concluded as he fingered his pistol again, making it clear that the conversation was now over. "Good day to you, sirs."

Karl nodded, turned and followed Thomas over to where he was keeping their two horses. Deciding to walk them back to the road before riding back to Shadowbrook, Thomas started the conversation.

"I told you summutt was up when I passed by earlier from Tidewater!"

"Yes – and I am glad that you told me when you arrived," Karl answered back. "I was waiting for you to show up, when that pair of thieves distracted me."

"You mean that female outlaw distracted you? Only to later sweep you off your feet, literally!" Thomas cackled. "And so she escaped you. You're too much of a gentleman, Karl!"

"And you are still too much of a ruffian, Thomas Harrow. And yet, you are making me stoop to your level. If we are so willing to bribe that man, then who else will do so?"

"Hah! You an' your honor. Greed is a fact of life, friend," Thomas shot back. "And if you're fretting 'bout the money we have left, I can always open this sealed letter I picked up last night, and sell the information to those who'll pay well. I can make it look like the Scarlet Shadow mugged me for it…"

"That won't work," Karl rebuked him.

"Why not?"

"Because the Scarlet Shadow was the thief who was captured by the authorities this morning!"

"Huh! I'll think of another excu-"

"Just do your job, Thomas, and deliver your sealed message to the manor," Karl sighed. Suddenly he stopped, and held up his hand. "Listen!"

The scared man was silent for a few moments. "What? I can't hear nuffin'"

"You can't hear anything, you mean! That is it! There's still no birdsong. I have heard no birds all this time we have been here."

"Flown south already for the winter, 'ave they?"

"No! I saw birds flying around the town," Karl hissed. "There's more to this. Something has scared them away from these woods. The scent of death, perhaps. Those unnatural deaths."

Thomas nervously licked his lips. Then he asked, "So what you think was responsible for those three folk gettin' killed?"

"I do not know yet," Karl mused. "But I think we have got possibly the most dangerous case we have yet encountered, old friend. I hope that Inspector and his sergeant are open-minded enough to deal with what they might find…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

"Inspector… Sergeant… This is Harlow Morgan – who I understand is our local inventor. Mr Morgan – let me introduce you to Inspector Cooke and Sergeant Allardyce from the authorities in Boston," announced Captain Townsend. "They need somewhere to store this statue – and I believe that you are the most likely choice when it comes to storage spaces, yes?"

The little, bespectacled, egg-faced man with the overgrown sideburns had remembered to stop and take off his chemical-stained gloves before shaking hands with his unexpected visitors. However, he looked with concern upon the concealed statue on the cart through the doorway of the rented warehouse.

"Oh…, must you bring that in here?" he fussed, flapping one hand in the air in agitation as if it was a miniature bird wing. "I am starting to run out of space with my equipment and supplies, see?" Cooke noted that the inventor spoke with a trace of an accent that he was not familiar with. English? No. But at its core it was not American. So he had to have crossed the Atlantic within the last ten years, Cooke told himself.

The Inspector looked around at the disheveled workspace. It was cluttered with all sorts of odds and ends, some of them resting on the last remains of the straw which had otherwise been cleared out from the warehouse. The ventilated end of the building was home to wooden workbenches upon which stood a Bunsen burner, test tubes and sealed chemical samples next to a microscope and an assortment of flasks and connecting tubes. Elsewhere, a variety of guns and cartridges lay besides nets made of a flexible material, and stacks of boxes containing…whatever.

Cooke snapped his fingers, as the answer to the inventor's accent came to him. "Ahh… Of course, Morgan… You were born in Wales, sir!"

"That I was, Inspector. I take it, by contrast, that you are a native Colonial?"

Cooke nodded. "Boston born and bred, sir. You arrived on these shores with your family?"

"I did… But I am a lone traveler now. I have decided to reside here."

Captain Townsend joined the conversation. "Mr Morgan has been with us for about half a year now. He has been attempting to work on various…things…to improve our lot. His devices have helped to deliver quicker ways of boiling water. And his candles…they have been proven to last longer than what we had already." The Captain smiled. "I am just not as sure as to the reliability of some of his more outlandish, mechanical devices."

Harlow cast a hurt look at him, his nose winkling. "I am learning from my mistakes, Captain Townsend. That net gun _nearly_ worked on the last try…"

"Well, Mr Morgan," Cooke interrupted. "We are busy men. Your skills may be of use to us as we investigate this case. If you agree to do so, and allow us to keep this statue in your care…" He looked meaningfully across to Sergeant Allardyce.

"…we will financially reward you," Allardyce concluded, not missing a beat.

Harlow's eyes lit up – and Cooke smiled. He had already worked out the man's main practical need when it came to carrying out his work.

"Oh, well… In that case, gentlemen, I would be happy to be of public assistance. But…what is this case you are working on?"

"I cannot tell you much at this stage, Mr Morgan. What I will say is that two men and a woman, died last night… In the vicinity of the olde woods."

"A woman…? How did she die…? I mean… Dear god! How did these people die?" Harlow stuttered.

"The men were slaughtered by some wild creature. The woman… We don't know how it was done." Cooke stroked the end of his goatee beard.

"Do you know of anyone around here who would create a life-sized statue of a local man, Mr Morgan?" Allardyce grunted.

"Why, no! But…bring it in here."

Inspector Cooke turned to the two guards still with the cart and nodded to them. Allardyce stepped out to assist with the heavy load.

Minutes later, as his visitors departed, Harlow Morgan pulled back the cover to the statue of the screaming man. His jaw dropped.

"My word…!"

Harlow tugged absent-mindedly on the end of the lace draped over his shirt. He could take samples of the stone. Yes. See if it resembled the local rocks. But he had other work to see to as well, he reminded himself. Important work. If only he had…

He groaned and scratched the wide bald patch on the top of his head. So many things to do, and so little time…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Manor:**

Having recovered from the minor bump to her head (which had needed nothing more than a wet rag and witch hazel to treat it) Isabella von Took, had just finished the unpacking of the cases with the aid of her handmaiden, when they heard the horse pull up outside the manor.

Rising from the side of the four-poster bed in her guest bedroom, Isabella strode to the window. She saw the scar-faced man with his unsightly dead eye climb down from his horse, as the young groom tended to the frisky animal. Engaging briefly in conversation that failed to penetrate the closed window, the visitor then parted from the groom and entered the manor through the servants' quarters. Just before he disappeared from her sight, Isabella saw the ugly newcomer remove an envelope from his satchel. Her keen eyes glimpsed the red seal.

 _A courier… How interesting._

She made a decision. Telling Heidi to go to her room and see to her own cases, Isabella glided out of her room and onto the landing. Checking both ways along the second floor landing for anyone other than Heidi now disappearing through the next doorway along, the Dutch noblewoman descended partway down the wide, circular staircase with its polished wooden banister – making a point of appraising the portraits of the Hanbrook family, in case anyone came along and caught sight of her.

 _Ah. Here he is…_

The courier, accompanied by the butler, Hargreaves, walked into the spacious hallway – in the wake of Lord Hanbrook himself, who looked serious. The latter stopped at a door that was just visible when Isabella crouched down on the staircase. Taking out a key from the inner pocket of his coat, his lordship unlocked the door – and he gestured for the courier to pass over the sealed envelope.

"Here you go, sir," the reedy-voiced, scarred man declared as he complied.

"Thank you, Mr Harrow. Both of you may go. Escort him out, Hargreaves."

"Yes, sir."

Isabella quickly rose and hurried back upstairs before she could be seen. Then she entered Heidi's room without knocking, startling her from the clothes she was placing in the set of drawers.

"Oh, 'tis you, vhy lady…"

"I apologize for unnerving you, Heidi. But I have a special task for you." Isabella pursed her lips before continuing. "A _discreet_ task."

Heidi rose to attention and placed her hands together in front of her. "I am here to serve, vhy lady," she announced meekly. "How can I help?"

"Good. I was intrigued by what the schoolmistress had to tell me about certain…happenings in, and around, this town," Isabella began. "And in my conversation with Lady Hanbrook, when we had tea upon our arrival, she has grudgingly admitted that there have been killings of livestock and deer in the fields and woods in recent weeks. But from Lord Hanbrook's demeanor, I think something further has happened. I want you to mingle with the other servants here – especially the maids – and find out what is going on. Report back to me tonight, understood?"

Heidi's round face bobbed as she nodded. "Yes, Madam Isabella."

Leaving Heidi to finish her packing, Isabella then decided upon her next move as she returned to the carpeted landing. They were to stay at Hanbrook Manor for the next few days, upon the invitation of her friend Lady Josette Hanbrook. The party would be tomorrow night. Today's evening meal would be at six o'clock. There would be time to explore the grounds…

Stepping outside, Isabella walked along the stone balcony that looked out upon the well-kept lawns and gardens set to the rear of the manor. To one corner of the grounds lay a hedge-maze, with the tops of the 'walls' having reached about head height. Her head height anyway, Isabella estimated, as she walked out onto the paths around the gardens. The fountain was still – but no doubt it would be flowing freely again by tomorrow night.

To her right-hand side, the manor continued a little further before the rear-left corner of the south-facing building linked with the north wing. This was joined to the rest of the manor by a single-storey corridor – but the north wing itself was dilapidated and in need of repair, especially to the roof and second storey. From her previous correspondence with her ladyship, the work on the north wing extension had not finished, when an earth tremor had struck, just months ago – and with cracks appearing in part of the new building, the surveyors had been called back to assess the damage. They had reported that the land underneath still seemed to be stable. But Lord Hanbrook was now running out of money for the repairs and upkeep of his home. At the same time, the new maid had to be put somewhere – so into the cracked north wing she went. The other few rooms, still bare, could not be used until his lordship had built up his finances once more…

 _Speaking of whom…_

Isabella hid behind one of the stone posts that bore a stone griffin on top. The new maid – who had come to serve at Hanbrook Manor earlier in the year – was now carrying laundry in her hands as she walked out from the kitchen and headed towards a door on the side of the north wing. She opened the door, and then closed it behind her.

 _Let us deal with this one directly. I doubt that Heidi has already talked to her…_

And so with her usual fearlessness, Isabella von Took strode over to the entrance door – only to find that it was now locked. She paused, guided by her instinct. There had been something furtive about the black woman's apprehensive glances at the gathering gray clouds in the sky and at the woods surrounding the rear of the grounds.

Instead of knocking, Isabella decided to spy on her quarry through the windows to her ground-floor room.

The maid had put her laundry basket down – and was now kneeling, cross-legged on the floor, pulling up at a pair of loose floorboards. When there was enough space, she pulled out a wooden box from within and unlocked it, using a key hidden in a pocket on her servant's dress. Closing her eyes and keeping very still for what seemed like a minute, the maid then emptied the contents of the box onto the floor before her.

 _What? Bones…!?_

And indeed they were. Animal bones, Isabella soon realized, judging by the size and structure of what appeared to be the skeletal remains of forelegs and rear legs. From her angled perspective of the maid, the black servant seemed to be talking to herself as she opened her eyes and shifted the bones with her fingers.

After a minute, the maid suddenly seemed to come out of her trance-like frame of mind. Her hands gathered up the bones and scooped them back into the box. With the now-locked container placed again underneath the prized floorboards, the woman pressed them back down so they level with the rest of the wooden floor. She quickly got back up upon her feet, and…

Drawing in her breath sharply, Isabella backed away from the window before the maid could turn around and see her there.

"There you are, Isabella!" a familiar voice called out to her.

Jumping with fright, she gave a relieved gasp as she turned around and saw a smiling Lady Hanbrook walking along the pathway towards her.

"Admiring our gardens, I see…"

"Indeed." Isabella moved away from the north wing. "A shame about the damage done to this building, though."

Lady Hanbrook's expression turned sour. "It is only Delani who resides in it… Oh, she is respectful and efficient enough in her duties, but… Well. She is descended from slaves. It has sadly become a case of taking whatever workers happen upon us – instead of having a choice."

Isabella raised a thin eyebrow. "I see. But…did you not hire her, yourself?"

"That was dear George's decision. Not mine. Delani was prepared to work for less than our existing maid, Selena – and so… But no matter. Let me show you the maze, and let us talk of other matters, dear Issy. No one else will be in there."

Once in the maze, Lady Hanbrook smiled and allowed Isabella to decide which way to go. Turning left at the first T-junction led to a dead end – and so the two noblewomen turned round and headed back the other way, with Isabella again choosing to go left, instead of straight on at the next junction. This time the path taken proved to be more promising as they arrived at a crossroads. Jabbing her raised finger at each new path as she muttered to herself, Isabella eventually took the right-hand path, which reached the east wall of the maze and twisted to the left before another fork appeared. And so, after a few wrong turns, they reached the square at the heart of the maze, and sat on the wooden bench set next to the sundial. A couple of birds, which were drinking from a small pond at the foot of the sundial, took off and disappeared at the approach of the women.

"You did well there, Issy. Better than I when I first attempted this maze," Lady Hanbrook declared, relaxing into her old informal manner now that they were out of sight and earshot of others. Her haughty features turned serious as her gloved hand fiddled with a loose strand of her curled dark-ginger hair. "I am sorry to hear of your Johan's passing. If I had known sooner…"

Isabella shook her head. "No matter, Josette. He was lost at sea. So the funeral was with an empty coffin. And our marriage… That too, had felt empty for some years – as you already know."

"So you are past grieving now – if you had grieved at all?"

"I was fond of him…in my way. And his death came as a shock," Isabella considered. "But now… Now I feel freer than I have ever been. No husband. No parents. And I have Johan's wealth." She focused on her friend. "So, your own relationship with George is…stable, you said earlier. And what of Lucy? Is she well? Do you have suitors in mind for her, now that she is coming of age?"

"Lucy is currently horse riding with the midwife of our town. And, yes – I have tried to prepare her for society and suitors. But she has not taken to the men she has been introduced to." Lady Hanbrook sniffed with disapproval. "I suspect that she still has feelings for a man who used to come here – who I have forbidden… But enough of that. We could still do with more people attending Lucy's birthday party tomorrow night. She has few friends, you see." She removed an envelope from a pocket set in her cloak. "Here is your party invitation, Issy. I also have other cards on my person, to add the name of anyone suitable enough to come at short notice… Heidi, perhaps? Some of our servants will be allowed to dance at the party. Lucy insisted upon it."

"Heidi? Hmm… Very well. I will write her name upon her invitation later, if you give it to me now. But, as yet, I have seen little of the people of your town…" Isabella tapped her foot as she thought furiously. Then she smirked. "I can think of someone I could dance with. And there is a lady in Shadowbrook who might appreciate such an invite."

"Really? Who? And who?"

"In reply to the first issue, I will say no more. As to the lady who could do with an invite, I refer to the local schoolmistress – Miss Piaget."

"Ahh, yes. She will do. Now, take these invitation cards that I have already signed. All you need do is add the names of those you have in mind. And here is an extra one for the other lady – so that she has a dance partner. If you wish, the courier could deliver them. George has permitted him to partake of a late lunch with the servants. The man, I understand, knows most people in Shadowbrook." And with that, Lady Hanbrook started to rise from the bench.

Isabella put out her hand, touching the sleeve of her friend's dress. "Wait one moment, Josette! You mentioned the deaths of those farm animals and deer earlier. In the last few months. But I have heard more. Some men violently died last night…"

Lady Hanbrook's face turned pale. "I know nothing of this…"

"I see. What can you tell me about the one referred to as 'The Shadow Witch?'"

The other woman's features become even paler. She took a step away from Isabella. "Do not ask me of her! She is dead… And despite her promise, she will never torment us ag-"

"What?"

Lady Hanbrook's palm was directed towards Isabella as she retreated. The Dutchwoman noticed her friend's throat bobbing up and down with fear. "Please, Issy… I must speak with George now. He was out this morning. He must have been investigating the matter that you spoke of." She took a deep breath to recompose herself. "It is turning overcast, dear. Do you wish me to show you the way out?"

Isabella considered this, and then shook her head. "I will stay here a little longer. I wish to think alone."

"I will see you at dinner, then." Lady Hanbrook nodded, and walked towards the far side of the maze's heart – turning left at the junction visible, before disappearing from sight.

Then her scream rang out.

Startled, Isabella got to her feet, and hurried onwards. Reaching Lady Hanbrook just past the junction, she grabbed hold of her friend who had pressed her back against a hedge, shaking. There was blood on one of her hands – and the other hand was pressed against it.

"Josette! What has happened?!"

"The f-fiend! It leapt up-upon me fr-from the he-hedge… Scr-scratched me! Get it aw-away…" Her mouth refusing to work properly, Lady Hanbrook instead jabbed her finger along the now-gloomy passageway of the maze before her. Heart in her throat, Isabella looked along it, fearing what she would see – but there was nothing… Then she glanced down, and laughed. A painfully-thin, cat with brown, gray, and white markings, was sat before them a couple of meters away, eyeing them warily. Then it rose upon all fours and sauntered off into the side passage nearby.

Isabella glanced briefly at her ladyship, frowning. "It is of little consequence… Why! You had a cat as a pet, as I recall-"

"It sh-should not b-be _here_!" Lady Hanbrook hissed.

"Then I will take this insolent animal to your grounds keeper, for him to remove it from the premises." Isabella turned and strode into the side passage, which then turned right and revealed a dead end.

But the cat had gone. There was only a dead bird present, torn apart on the ground – the grisly remains of its meal…

Puzzled, Isabella carefully searched the foliage. The hedges were perfectly formed – no cat could have passed through them. There was no sign, either, that the feline had climbed the greenery…

Overhead, the dark gray clouds were gathering. A chill ran along Isabella's spine – and she told herself it was because the air had suddenly turned cooler.

But she prided herself on her wits. Nobody could convincingly lie to Isabella von Took.

Not even herself.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Some hours later…

Isabella glanced again at Lady Hanbrook as their dessert dishes were taken away by the servants. Her friend now bore a bandage over the back of her right hand. The bandage also constrained the movement of her wrist and thumb – forcing her ladyship to rely on her left hand during the meal. She had been terse when questioned about her wound by Lucy – and would only reply that she had accidently injured herself. The wound, and bandage, would soon be gone.

Not surprisingly, the atmosphere at the dining table felt uncomfortable to both Isabella and Lucy. Lord Hanbrook had eaten his meal with a stern expression – though he had engaged in conversation with his guests now and then, to make up for his wife's withdrawn manner.

Night had long fallen outside, and the autumn skies – visible through the large windows were leaden with low clouds. There had been prolonged light rain earlier. And mist was now forming. Upon Lady Hanbrook's urging, Hargreaves the butler promptly drew all of the curtains to. Immediately, Lady Hanbrook began to relax a little – there was a subtle shift in her behavior which Isabella picked up upon.

So too did Inspector Jonathan Cooke.

As Hargreaves refilled Cooke's glass with more of the excellent red wine, the Inspector again appraised the rest of the company at the table – Lord George Hanbrook; his wife Lady Josette; their daughter Lucy; and the raven-haired Dutch noblewoman Isabella von Took, who spoke excellent English.

"When you have finished your drink, Inspector, we can retreat to my study. I wish to hear what findings you have made today," Lord Hanbrook declared in his calm, even tone of voice as he sipped from his own glass. He gazed for a moment into the flickering log fire that was burning.

"Excuse me. I know that you men like to discuss important matters away from the ears of us of the fairer sex – but I too would like to hear more of these matters," Isabella spoke up, measuring her words carefully. "If there is danger around these parts, I would like to know what I – and my servants – am to protect ourselves from."

Cooke gave her a stern look. "You are an unusual woman, Madam von Took. However, I cannot openly talk about the deaths that I am looking into. This is procedure. I should discuss my progress only with the elders of your town – and my superiors back at Boston."

"But…, pardoning me, Inspector… If…whatever creature…that has caused the deaths of those animals has now…turned…upon men, will you be calling upon more of your officers to help the local militia track it down?"

It was Lucy who had spoken, Cooke noted. He was not sure what to make of her, as yet. In the subdued light, her shoulder-length hair appeared to be a chestnut brown – but when viewed in the firelight, her locks turned an attractive shade of titian. Likewise, in her long-sleeved, formal white and green-blue dress, Lucy Hanbrook came across as a pampered and fragile, with a light sprinkle of freckles around her cheeks. But he sensed a hidden spirit and strength to her. She had asked him many questions about Boston, a city that she had never visited. She had smiled and politely laughed in the right places when he had recited amusing tales. But now, it was clear that she was not without an independent mind and will of her own.

 _Just as well,_ he reminded himself. Lucy was to become of age tomorrow evening. She would officially turn into a woman in her own right.

"No need to call in more of the force from the city, just yet, Miss Lucy. We need to learn more of what we are dealing with yet," Cooke replied, smiling as he sipped his wine.

"We should discuss matters over a smoke in the study…" Lord Hanbrook trailed off as the butler gave a cough. "What is it, Hargreaves?"

"Excuse me, sir. As you have locked your room earlier, the fireplace will be…"

His lordship winced in annoyance, and reached for a key within the inner pocket of his waistcoat. "My mistake. Give Selena this key, so that she can light the fire and warm the room ready for us."

"Very good, sir." Hargreaves took the offered key and promptly left the dining room to find the maid.

"Inspector…if I may ask," the von Took woman spoke up again. "Going on whatever you have seen and learned so far, you believe that a natural animal is behind this spate of killings?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why, yes. Of course, madam. I am not very familiar with the larger predators of the countryside – but it is likely that a large wolf or some wild big cat is lurking in these parts. Do you have some other explanation to offer?"

"I have heard talk in the town of witchcr-" Isabella's brash manner faltered as her eyes glanced across to Josette, who gave a small, sharp shake of her head, in disapproval.

" _Witchcraft!?"_ Inspector Cooke slammed down his goblet and snorted as he smirked. "Begging your pardon, Madam von Took. But as an Inspector trained in detection and analysis, I consider myself to be a rational man. In the absence of fact, we must NOT rely on fiction! We are in a new century now. In 1803, no less. This is not the old country, or the old continent – with the hysteria of the puritans. That should be firmly confined to history!"

"But unnatural things have happened here in recent years, and that it was all hushed up…," a small voice piped up.

"Lucinda! Be silent, child!" Lady Hanbrook bristled.

Cooke and Isabella turned to face Lucy at the same moment.

"What…unnatural things?" Cooke asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

The Hanbrooks looked silently between themselves. It was the father who spoke first. Again, his voice was calm and measured.

"Very well. Madam von Took is correct in reporting that rumors are present in Shadowbrook. You see, on all Hallows Eve a year ago, a woman accused of witchcraft was convicted and hung for her many crimes against this community – despite her pleas of innocence. She was feared, and despised, by many – including all of the elders of Shadowbrook. In her defiance, this hateful woman threatened to return fr-"

The scream that rang through the manor at that moment made Isabella drop her wine glass. The remaining liquid stained the rich cloth.

"Oh! My apologies, I-"

But Isabella realized that the Hanbrooks were not paying attention to her accident. Instead, fear had seized them – turning them rigid.

After what must have been seconds, but what had felt to be longer, Lord Hanbrook's face twitched. He bolted out of the room – followed promptly by the Inspector. Isabella gave chase without further hesitation.

Within moments, all three of them had come to an abrupt halt in his lordship's study. Selena was there, still staring at the horror that had caused her to scream. She now trembled in the hands of the black maid, Delani – who was forcing Selena to turn away from the west wall, and seek comfort in her colleague's embrace.

"I came in…to light the fire. But when I did, I saw…" Selena choked up. Without turning her head away from Delani's shoulder, she pointed at the thick circle of dark liquid that was oozing from the wallpaper and slowly dripping down onto the mantelpiece below. It was if the wall itself was alive, and had been somehow…injured.

Lord Hanbrook was the first to find his voice. "Delani – take Selena to the servant's quarters. Now!"

"Yessir!" Delani answered, before slipping away with the other serving girl.

"What…? What trick is this!?" Inspector Cooke gasped. Lord Hanbrook and Isabella watched as he cautiously approached the bleeding wall. His questing fingers wiped away a spot on the red circle and felt it. "This is surely blood!"

"No trick, Inspector. This is witchcraft! It must be _her_ doing…" Lord Hanbrook's voice trembled.

"Can we…test this blood?" Isabella asked aloud. "See if it is…human?"

"Fetch a container of some kind from the kitchen, if you will please, Madam von Took! I will go outside to see who is responsible for this trick!" Inspector Cooke made for the front door. "Hargreaves!" He called out. "I need your help, man!"

And so, Isabella dashed for the kitchen – after being directed by Lord Hanbrook. Once there, she came across Selena and Delani again. Heidi too was there – helping to direct the shocked serving girl to a chair at the table. With Delani's help, Isabella tried to find a suitable container. She settled for a clean milk pot with a detachable lid, and a spoon to scope up the blood. Wasting no time, the noblewoman then dashed back to the study…

…where Lord Hanbrook was slumped against the east wall of his study, his body rigid with shock. His wide eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, where – even as Isabella looked – the offending blood stains were inexplicably vanishing from sight.

Moments later, Inspector Cooke arrived back in the study – his expression perplexed. "I do not understand," he muttered. "There is no blood on the outside wall… Hargreaves is alerting the men – to search for the intruder. Wait! The blood… It has gone!?"

"It disappeared before my eyes, Inspector," Isabella remarked coolly.

"You will excuse me… The other elders need to know about this," Lord Hanbrook croaked. He slipped away from the room.

"I will return to check on Selena, I think," Isabella declared. She then strode back to the kitchen, her heart racing with fear – but also with a thrill of excitement.

She loved mysteries. And this was turning out to be a most unusual change from her normal, dull routine – her late husband's death not withstanding. Besides the many questions on her mind, Isabella felt the sweet tang of an adventure arising…

By the time she reached the other women where she had left them, Isabella realized that Inspector Cooke had followed her.

"The blood mark has gone from the study, ladies. I do not know what exactly happened – but the culprit will be caught. Hargreaves and the other male servants of the house are searching the grounds now," he declared, looking and sounding dazed.

"You do not understand, sir," Delani spoke in a measured, somber tone of voice. "We're not alone here…there's something from the _other_ side, the spirit world."

Cooke appraised her carefully. "I do not believe in ghosts, Miss," he told her.

"You will." She turned her attention to Isabella. "Your servant is inquisitive, madam. I have told her that I have already consulted the bones. Darkness is coming."

"The bones?" Isabella immediately thought back to when she spied the black maid toss the animal bones out of her hidden away box. It was…divination?

"Yes. What we all saw was a warning. Those men who died last night, Inspector… They are just the first. Many more will follow…"

Cooke's face darkened. "Miss Delani, if you know who is behind all this, then you need to tell me – or you will be a party to…"

She held up a hand, and Cooke found himself inexplicably silenced. "I can not tell who or what is responsible. The bones gave me no clear answer. What I do know is that _both_ of you are needed to fight back against the evil that threatens to take us all. You and several others. You must all stand and fight for the safety of this township!"

Both Cooke and Isabella raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Selena sniffed. She had stopped crying, and was now looking up at the two guests. Clasping her hands together, the pretty, dark-haired young woman managed a fluttering smile.

"You've come to save us!" she exclaimed joyously.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Fields:**

Not far away from Hanbrook Manor, the mist was becoming thicker in the surroundings of the farmlands that supplied Shadowbrook.

A watcher had used that mist to its advantage to draw closer to one particular farmhouse. Earlier, it had observed the movements of the humans of the farm estate. Satisfied that its target was within, the creature had then turned its attention to the flock of sheep kept in the nearby barn.

Catching scent of the intruder as it adjusted itself to tear at the wood around the padlock on the doors, the flock bleated and milled around in terror. Soon, one of them had been caught as it had tried to run past the creature. Its screaming soon ended as its throat was torn out. Ovine blood ran down the chest of the intruder, and dripped onto the dirty straw that littered the floor of the barn. The rest of the flock began to nervously dash past the scene of the death, as they bolted outside to safety.

The creature did not stop them as it gulped down the raw meat of its kill. Instead, it waited as the commotion around the farmhouse boiled over…

Within seconds, the farm dog emerged and ran straight towards the creature.

Snarling, the intruder rose and turned just in time to meet the dog's attack.

By the time the farm men had armed and organized themselves, they were overwhelmed by the chaos outside of the stampeding sheep and almost deafened by the cries echoing from beyond the broken doorway of the barn.

"Lexington! Barnes! With me," the eldest of the men ordered as he jabbed his finger at two of the hardiest farmhands. "The rest of you – get them sheep into the enclosures. Now!"

"Yessir!" They yelled back.

Moments later, the owner forced himself to overcome his trembling nerves. Then, creeping through the broken doorway with his two companions, they saw from the light of the lantern hanging just inside the barn…

"Shoot it!" the owner barked.

The creature bared its fangs as it rose from the form of the defeated dog. Its chance had now arrived – and it bounded away at an angle to avoid the first rifle shots, before twisting in mid-run to bear down upon its quarry.

"Oh, god! No!" the youngest man cried out.

"Hold your nerve, Barnes. Both of you - fire!"

This time, the latest round of shots had a closer range. They did not miss – but the creature was not swayed from its course, until…

It screamed as two of the bullets clipped it. The creature fell to the ground, twitched and then lay still.

The smoke from the discharged shots drifted from the rifles. "Did we…get it?" the young man gulped.

"Barnes. Check it out," the owner ordered. "Don't look insolent! Do as I say!"

"Ye-yes, sir," Barnes swallowed. Reloading his rifle, he then cautiously advanced upon the downed intruder…

…which in an instant, rose up and charged its head at him. Barnes gave a shriek as he was bowled over by the fiend, which immediately turned round and…

The owner fired his rifle again – this time just missing the dodging shape. Then the creature paused, sniffing at the air. Its keen eyes saw the amulet draped over the shirt of its quarry…

With a howl of anger, the intruder turned round and ran toward the rear of the barn – its sleek, twisting form avoiding the next volley of shots. Then, carried by its momentum, bounded up towards the small round window set into the back wall, and smashed through.

"Quick! Let's hunt it down!" the owner spat. He led his remaining man outside. But by the time they had reached the other side of the barn's back wall, the intruder had vanished into the thickening mist...

Inside the barn, the forgotten Barnes moaned as he rubbed his head and tried to move from where he had been tossed aside. To his astonishment, he had not been slashed by those terrible fangs or claws – only bruised by the impact. He gave a quick prayer of thanks to the Lord above.

His relief vanished as he saw the whimpering dog and the wounds it had taken.

"No… Oh, no," Barnes muttered. "The master will not be pleased…"

Back in the woods bordering the southern edge of the fields, the intruder bellowed its rage to the heavens.

At the back of the barn – unnoticed by anyone or anything else - a thin brown, white and gray cat slipped through a gap in the old brickwork. A few minutes later, the painfully-thin animal fed contently on a rat he had just caught in the hedgerows bordering the nearest road. An ethereal wisp connected the tomcat to a vague ghostly shape standing close by in the shadows. It was appraising the human and animal noises from the farm. The figure chuckled to itself – if anyone had been present there and then, they would have just been able to hear the mocking laughter. It had watched the drama unfold, and was satisfied. Having successfully invaded the dreams of the farm owner the previous night, he had taken to wearing protection – made all too aware by his unearthly guardian of the nature of the creature that had tracked him down.

 _Soon… Soon I will have my own use for you, dearest…_ The apparition smiled gloatingly, as it thought to itself. _And then we shall truly begin to make this township pay the price…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

 **The Horror**

 **The Church:**

As the final note from the organ faded away, so too did the last traces of the singing voices throughout the rather-gloomy interior of the solitary church within Shadowbrook. The croaky rasp of the odd-looking man with the white eye ended too – as he caught up with the more-competent singers. The reverend gestured with both hands, palms down - and the assembled duly all took their seats again.

Jonathan Cooke's relief at coming to the end of the hymn swiftly faded as Reverend Elijah Harding straightened the cuffs of his vestments and launched into another sermon. He had already spoken (well, ranted – the Inspector reminded himself) about how the primitive tribes folk scattered across 'this new country' were destined for purgatory, as they did not worship God but instead believed in animal spirits and held onto other, pagan-like ways, in his estimation. Now, Harding wanted to preach on how man in the New World was straying from God's laws – and that the consequences of that were now being felt in the local vicinity.

"…for I tell you that there are forces of darkness that abound in this world, leading us all astray from the teachings of the bible!" Harding's strong, forceful voice carried across to all of the assembled without wavering. "But there are also agents of the Lord who will punish us. Aye, punish us, I tell you! One woman of this township was found to have lost her way. She had mingled for too long in the company of bad men, and so all three of them have been taken from us. Agnes Agnew, Richard Shaw, and Eli Bunt." Harding stooped over his pulpit and glared at his congregation, hearing the mutterings of those who previously been unaware of the news. He raised his hand for silence, and received it.

"Yes. Those three souls have been taken. Whilst Richard's brother Samuel is missing. I have seen the bodies of the deceased, and I have prayed for their lost souls to be redeemed, so that they may all find their way to heaven…"

From his position at the side of the pews, towards the front of the aisle, Cooke looked across to the sister of Agnes Agnew, who had already been informed of the death. Very reluctantly, had the town elders agreed to let the sister and her husband see the deceased's body – and it was only to gain the confirmation of identity that the husk had indeed been Agnes. Now Agnes's sister bowed her head, supported by her husband. They glanced up at the Reverend Harding with horror and disgust at his declaration of Agnes's character – but they stayed put, not wanting to be seem to leave the stone church in mid-service.

His mind wandering from Harding's semi-coherent ramblings, Cooke turned his head further to once again take in the various characters present at the Friday morning service. Most of them were dressed in such a manner as to convey that they were ordinary townsfolk. But there were other individuals who interested him. Besides the swarthy-looking small man with the dead eye, there was a bearded man with him – both suited in jackets and clothing that indicated that they were traveled men, familiar with the hardy countryside. Both had been the last pair to enter the church, and they sat at the back of the assembled group. Further forward, a woman wearing a long dark-gray dress with a white collar, and her dark-brown hair pulled and tied back into a bun seemed anxious. Seated close to her was an overweight man bearing a goatee and thinning, dark-brown hair, dressed elegantly in tailored white and cream-colored clothes that marked him as a recent arrival. Elsewhere, Isabella von Took was sat – her chin resting on her cupped hand, looking bored by the reverend, and her eyes also glancing around at the congregation, as if looking for someone more interesting to absorb her attention. The noblewoman had changed her attire since last night, and was now dressed in a long black outfit, with lace trim around the sleeves. From where he sat, Cooke could see a lock of Isabella's dark hair hanging down just in front of her ear. Her meek-looking, Germanic handmaiden was sat next to her.

Cooke's focus moved to the front row on the other side of the central aisle from himself, to where the town elders were gathered.

He had learnt that they were seven in number. To his relief, Major Bruckner was not present. With the Reverend Harding preaching to them all, there were four elders on the pew – Lord and Lady Hanbrook (without Lucy, who had been ordered to remain at the manor by her parents, Cooke understood), and also the cherubic-faced, wigged Magistrate Kroft – who was nodding his head to a regular rhythm that suggested he was in the process of dozing.

The final elder at the far end of the row caught Cooke's attention in particular. She was a lady of medium-height, slim, and with shoulder-length blonde hair – of younger age than her contemporaries. He estimated her to be somewhere in her thirties – and she was dressed in a brown shawl which hung over her shoulders and her white and green-colored clothes. Her expression was impassive as she kept her head slightly-lowered, only occasionally glancing at Harding.

Then, as if aware that she was being watched, the elder turned her head in a smooth motion and stared back at Cooke. Her lips pulled into a smile as he wondered at her timing – asking himself if it only been coincidence.

The woman gave a tiny shake of her head, and then returned her gaze to Harding.

Cooke felt his jaw drop open in bewilderment.

"…and that concludes the special sermon for today. I will send notice of when it is known we will be able to bury our departed sister and brothers," Harding finally wrapped up his speech. "Now, return to the world outside - and live your lives according to God's laws, my children!"

Outside, at the edge of the churchyard, Cooke was watching Isabella. The Dutchwoman was with the lady with the dark-grey dress and the tight hair-bun. The latter was speaking with a French accent.

"…I am…taken aback, Madam von Took. We 'ave only met for the first time, yesterday…"

"Indeed – but my friend, Lady Hanbrook wishes to invite more people to the manor tonight, so…seeing as you have received my party invitation from that courier who was in church…will you attend, Anne Marie?"

Anne Marie's expression churned as she tried to decide. Finally, she nodded. "D'accord. Oui! Merci beaucoup, madame… But, this 'Plus One' ticket… I cannot think of anyone to go to the party with…"

"No gentleman that you have your eye on then? A shame – but I will leave that dilemma to you, Anne Marie," Isabella declared. "Oh, and I prefer 'Isabella' as opposed to 'madame'. I am a free woman, since my husband passed away."

"Pardon. I did not know. I am sorry…"

"Well… he was a sorry excuse of a man, anyway – so it matters not. I will see you tonight at the manor, dear. Au revoir. Come along now, Heidi. I have more people here I must speak with…"

"Au revoir, Isabella." Anne Marie nodded back.

Cooke turned to watch the town elders now splitting up as they departed from the church. The reverend slipped back into the church after talking with the blonde elder. Cooke was about considering introducing himself to her, when Magistrate Kroft suddenly appeared at his side.

"Did you enjoy the sermon, Inspector?" The dark-brown eyes set within the piggish-looking face of the elder seemed to twinkle with mischief.

"It was…interesting," Cooke concluded. "Is that Reverend Harding's usual style?"

"Somewhat… He has become more…old testament…during the last year – since…" Kroft hesitated. His cultured voice faded away.

"Since what…?"

"Since the trail and execution of Elaine Bartlett last year. Almost exactly a year ago, in fact."

"Was she tried…for witchcraft?" Cooke whispered, the words of the Hanbrooks from last night replaying in his mind. The blood on the wall suddenly threatened to divorce him from reason. It had been a trick of some kind. It must have been…

"That was one charge against her. She was also arrested for the murder of her husband, Ethan Bartlett," Kroft answered, his eyes checking on anyone passing close to them.

"Surely you – a learned magistrate - don't believe in witchcraft… Do you?"

Kroft chuckled. "Inspector, when you have lived in Shadowbrook as long as I have – which is several years – you will come to accept that sometimes what people _believe_ is more important than what is real, or not real. Did I uncover convincing evidence of witchcraft whilst I was judging Elaine Bartlett? Of course not. But I have no doubt that she did indeed kill her husband during her reign of terror. And she was accused by the townsfolk of countless acts of committing witchcraft most foul! Anyway, I have a busy day ahead. Excuse me!"

"Did you…enjoy the sermon, Magistrate Kroft?" Cooke put to him.

The fat man paused. "Oh, certainly. I've never slept better." Chuckling, Kroft then walked away, his cheeks wobbling slightly as he did so.

Cooke turned to seek out the blonde-haired lady once more. He glimpsed her walking away with the plump man from the church assembly who was dressed in white and cream. He was about to approach them, when Sergeant Allardyce intercepted him.

"What is it, sergeant!?" Cooke snapped.

"Begging your pardon sir, but…" the other man leaned in close to his superior. "We've had another…incident…reported to us. Doctor Manning has sent the message."

Cooke gave the sergeant a long look. Then he nodded, and followed Sergeant Allardyce over to their tethered horses a short distance along the road. Cooke paid the boy looking after his horse another coin, and proceeded to climb up and take the reins.

Upon an exchanged glance between them, Karl and Thomas had already started to follow Inspector Cooke. However, Karl found himself stopped in his tracks by Isabella von Took…

"Madam – I am in a hurry…"

"Really? This should not take long, Mr Harrison. I have been invited to a party at Hanbrook Manor tonight, where I am currently staying. But being a widow, I do not have a partner to dance with. I wondered…if you would oblige me."

Karl froze, not believing what he was hearing. "I…" He paused, and forced himself to smile. "That would be delightful, Madam von Took."

"Excellent. Then here is your invite. I have already taken the liberty of writing out your name, as you can see." Isabella pursed her lips and smiled. "I will see you in the entrance hall of Hanbrook Manor at seven o'clock tonight, yes?"

"Yes. Thank you… Er, I do have one question."

"Yes?"

Karl lowered his voice. "How come Lucy Hanbrook is not at church with her parents?"

Isabella frowned. "I…am not sure."

Heidi stepped forward and whispered "Mistress… I overheard the butler this morning before we came out. Apparently, the cook has disappeared. Miss Lucy was helping to organize the servants, instead."

"Thank you, Heidi." Isabella patted her handmaiden's shoulder. She gave Karl a beaming smile. "Until tonight, then – Mr Harrison."

Karl gave a sigh of relief as Isabella slipped away. By the time he had reached his tethered horse, he could see Thomas already cantering away on his, discreetly following Inspector Cooke and Sergeant Allardyce.

Karl paid the man looking after his horse – but did not mount his steed. Instead, he waited a few minutes as he took out some paper from his jacket and made further pencil notes to the list already made. His latest words were: 'Miss Palfreyman reported missing from Hanbrook Manor'.

His patience was rewarded as Thomas trotted back to the street outside the church.

"They've taken the road leading towards the windmill and the farmlands to the north of town," Thomas reported to him.

"Right. Let us see what's going on," Karl declared, now getting into the saddle…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

"Dear god almighty…," Inspector Cooke muttered, as he looked down upon the wizened body which lay sprawled across the track between the windmill and the nearby house. Close by were the eastern extent of the wheat fields which had been harvested.

The grayish, shrunken face of the man was frozen in a scream. His open eyes were already discolored.

Allardyce snorted. "Didn't think you believed in god that much, sir. But seeing how you've just come out of church…"

"I believe in law, order, and adhering to society, sergeant. That includes joining the local people in attending church," Cooke retorted. He glanced to Doctor Manning, who had been inspecting the body when Cooke and Allardyce had arrived, and was now taking surgical samples. Around them, some of the local militia had set up a guard – keeping their eyes open for any further signs of trouble, as well as ensuring that no one else got too close to the latest scene of death.

"You didn't stay at Hanbrook Manor overnight after dinner, sir?" Allardyce asked Cooke.

"No. I…stayed for an hour or so after the meal – then returned to the tavern in town, sergeant. The Hanbrooks never offered me a room for the night. They already have visitors. Her Ladyship has her Dutch friend staying, along with her servants…" Cooke turned back to Manning, who rose to his feet and removed his gloves, before shutting his doctor's bag to.

"Your findings, doctor?" Cooke challenged him.

"Exactly the same as Agnes Agnew – the body has been drained of fluids in some way, without any obvious puncture mark or wound." The bespectacled elder faced the inspector and kept his tone calm and professional, as he stuck to the facts. "The damage to the body is all over, but concentrated around the man's face. Perhaps his assailant administered the attack there."

"But his clothing is intact!" Cooke protested, pointing to the corpse. "Apart from these…claw…marks around his shoulders. "How could this man's flesh be…corrupted…without his tunic and pants being affected?"

"Perhaps the process that so affected the flesh was done by a process of touch?" Doctor Manning mused. "Anyway, there is more. This man has several broken bones, including his shoulder and neck. There's trauma to his skull. I believe that his head and neck injuries were the cause of his death!"

"And his body was…drained…afterwards?" Cooke shook his head and rubbed his forehead as he tried to make sense of everything that was unfolding before him. "Before Agnes Agnew, Doctor, have you come across anything like this?"

Manning's gaze momentarily fell to his feet, where there was a splinter of wood next to the body. Then he leveled his keen grey eyes at Cooke.

"Answering your first question, it is possible. And no – I have not seen or heard of anything like this before Miss Agnew's death. I am not sure what to make of this – or of the other discovery here…"

"And Mr Forbes - the miller - found the man here, last night, after being wakened up by screams shortly before dawn" Cooke muttered, repeating what the doctor had already told him. "Did he see anything?"

Manning shook his head. "He told me that he was too afraid to even look out of his windows at first. By the time he rushed out, with a loaded gun, there was only the body and the st…"

"Beggin' your pardon, sir. Found these geezers lurking in the fields close by," a rough voice called out.

Cooke, Allardyce, and Manning turned round to see two of the militia approaching, prodding two other men in front of them with the points of their rifles. Cooke narrowed his eyes. The 'geezers' were the brown-haired, bearded man who was at the back of the church during the service – whilst his accomplice was the swarthy-looking man with the dead eye. They currently had their hands on their heads, as no doubt ordered by the incompetent speaker, Abbots.

Even now, Doctor Manning was hissing in anger. He hurriedly grabbed the blanket that had been left to cover up the corpse.

"Abbots!" Cooke raged. "This is a scene of a killing! You do not _bring_ intruders closer to…"

"Don't bother covering him up, we've both seen his face," the taller, bearded man declared calmly.

"It's that guy who was guarding the dead woman yesterday…!" The shorter man suddenly fell silent, realizing that he had blurted too much.

His companion slipped one hand down from on top of his head, and pressed it against his face as he failed to suppress a groan.

"So you've been spying on us not just now, but yesterday too?" Cooke stepped up to the prisoners. "You were at the church service as well – so to get here so quickly, you must have been following my sergeant and me!"

"You killed my mate? You killed Lambert!?" the irate, scruffy-looking guard with the ginger mop raised his rifle, ready to bash both of his prisoners…

"Abbots! Stop!" Cooke barked at the startled militia man. He turned to the captives. "I'm awaiting your answer, gentlemen."

"All right, Inspector. Yes – we did follow you. And we are taking a keen interest in what is happening here," the bearded man confessed. "My name is Karl Harrison."

"I'm Thomas Harrow, courier for hire," the scarred, dead-eyed man added. He glared at Abbots. "And how could we have killed your matey, then? We're not warlocks!"

Abbots's mouth opened as he considered his answer. Then, giving up, he wisely decided to shut it again.

"What business is this of yours?" Manning challenged Karl and Thomas.

"We're hunters, doc." Thomas grinned at him. "Monster hunters."

Karl pointed at the statue of the woman that was still outside the door to the windmill, close to them. The arms were raised in mid-air as if portraying someone under attack. The statue was laying on its back – the face frozen in a tortured scream. "Have you examined the statue?" he asked.

"Yeah… Your work is it?" Allardyce snapped. "Detailed as it is, why the hell would you…?"

"Not my work, at all! That statue represents the cook of Hanbrook Manor, Miss Palfreyman!" Karl snapped back. "I heard that she has been reported missing from the manor, this morning."

Cooke frowned. "How would you know of…Miss Palfreyman?"

"I have been to the manor before, some years back. I know most of the staff," Karl answered. He turned to his colleague. "Thomas? Would you agree? You were there yesterday…"

Thomas took a few steps closer to look at the face. "Oh, it's her – all right. She served me a meal in the kitchen."

"And, pray, why would someone go to the trouble of making detailed statues of people who are disappearing?" Cooke bristled.

"Nobody is creating statues, Inspector…" Karl stepped up to the Inspector so that they were just a few feet apart. His eyes were sober and cutting. "These statues _are_ the missing people!"

Abbotts and the other militiaman guffawed. "Monster hunters! People turned…to stone!" Abbotts sneered.

"You are a soldier, are you not, Mr Harrison?" Cooke appraised his clothing. "Where is your company?"

"I have retired from service, Inspector," Karl answered. "And believe me, during my tours of duty I have seen some horrors that were _not_ human. I now spend my days tracking them down, and collecting any reward that comes my way. Mr Harrow fell in with me some time back – but still acts as a courier."

"I see. And you are in Shadowbrook because…"

"I wanted to see an old friend again. I wasn't expecting this…" Karl swept his arm between the statue and the wizened body of Lambert. "Listen. I propose that we join forces, Inspector…"

"…Cooke. But your request is declined. I want to know where those missing people are – and what killed Agnes Agnew and those men yesterday, as well as Lambert. So if you know how to _truly_ answer my questions, Mr Harrison and Mr Harrow, speak now!"

"We're wasting our time with this nitwit, Karl," Thomas groaned. "Listen, Inspector Cooke! How do you expect us to have all the answers? We've only started investigating yesterday – like yerselves! We've already told you what we know so far, yerr ninny!"

"Right! You're gonna pay for your disrespect…" Abbotts raised his rifle again.

"Abbotts – no! You and Costello can escort these men away from this location. Do not mistreat them!" Cooke fumed.

Abbotts and Costello bore sour expressions as they gestured for Karl and Thomas to come with them.

Karl paused and looked at the windmill. "I overheard the doctor's remarks about Lambert's injuries - so I'll leave you with a parting gift, Inspector Cooke. Look at that mark at the top of the windmill, and ask yourself what manner of _creature_ killed Lambert."

As the militia escorted Karl and Thomas away, Cooke turned to see that Doctor Manning was looking intently at the mark that Karl had referred to. He thought that he saw a glimmer of fear in the elder's eyes.

"What is it, Doctor Manning?"

"Noth-nothing… I must go, and see…see to these samples." Manning slipped on his dark overcoat and tricorn hat, and then briskly walked over to the militia man tending to the doctor's horse.

Cooke stroked his goatee-bearded chin. "Allardyce… Has the windmill been looked over by the men?"

"So they told me, sir. Nothing to report. The door's still unlocked. The miller only unlocked it when Abbotts asked to go inside."

"Did they venture onto the roof, sergeant?"

"Er… Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Let's do so ourselves…" Using his clean handkerchief, Cooke picked the splinter of wood from the ground and took it with him.

Within the next few minutes the two men had made their way through the wooden interior of the windmill, having climbed stepladders and squeezed past the currently-inert cogs of the machinery. Unbolting the latch at the top of the last stepladder, Cooke and Allardyce stepped out onto the ledge surrounding the dome at the top. Feeling a little sick and giddy at the sight of the ground far below, Cooke's face twitched in the light wind as he carefully knelt down and examined the dent at the edge of the wooden rim that Karl had spied. He spied dried blood. Next, he placed the splinter of wood on the ledge. There was a match.

He put the pieces together – and shuddered. "Oh, no… Dear god, no…"

"You are making a habit of that, sir," Allardyce remarked.

Cook drew in a deep breath to release some of the tension. "Does anyone else have a key besides the miller?"

"Abbotts told me there's only the one key, sir."

"Then we have a problem, sergeant… If Lambert wasn't able to walk up here – then how come his blood is before us?"

Sergeant Allardyce cautiously examined the bloodstained ledge and the covered body on the ground below. "You don't mean that…?"

"…that Lambert hit this ledge with enough force and impact to dent the wooden frame. This splinter that was found next to him, proves that! But the damage to this ledge is too great for Lambert to have merely fallen over and struck it with his shoulder, for example. And the claw marks around his shoulders…"

"Something…lifted him…up?"

"Yes, sergeant. I'm saying that something in the manner of a huge bird grabbed Lambert from the ground with its talons and soared into the air with him." Cooke's facial muscles twitched. "Then it dropped him _over_ the ledge of the windmill – where he flipped over and hit the ground! What the _hell_ was it? What ungodly thing…what _horror_ …drained the essence of his body? What slaughtered those men at the crossroads? Where is the survivor who got away? And why are people disappearing, only to be replaced by screaming statues!?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

 **Attacked!**

 **The Manor:**

The crowd at the table in the dining room applauded – some of them grudgingly – as Victor Danforth finished his one-man theatrical reading, a taster of his own play. Beaming as he bowed, the playwright then sat down as Lord and Lady Hanbrook stood up again. His lordship gave a short, unscripted speech about his love and pride of his daughter, his only child. Then, clearing his throat as his emotions began to show, George Hanbrook raised his wine-filled glass towards the star of the party.

"My dear Lucy is this night, now officially a woman, having reached her twenty-first birthday. May you find your future life to be a long and happy one, my daughter. Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday, dear!" added Lady Hanbrook, clinking her glass to her husband's. At her nod, the others at the table echoed the toast with their raised glasses.

Lucy blushed and smiled. She stood up to give a brief 'thank you' speech to those present – and her eyes fell upon, and lingered on, Karl. Then she sat down again.

With the last course of the delicious meal, plus Victor's entertainment and the speeches over, the next stage would be the dancing. The double doors leading from the dining room and into the ballroom were now being opened up by the butler. Through the doorway, the team of musicians were setting up their stands and readying their instruments at that very moment – flute and violins. With another man seating himself at the piano that was already in place within the ballroom.

Some of the guests rose from the table with their partners, to head for the terrace or the restrooms. Isabella however remained seated next to Karl.

"It would have been prudent to tell me in advance that you were already acquainted with the Hanbrooks, Mr Harrison," she murmured darkly to her date for the night. "And that Lady Hanbrook would look upon your arrival with disdain."

Karl chuckled as he folded in his used napkin. He looked at the lady who had asked him here, noting that she taken particular care over making her raven-colored hair look luscious. As well as wearing her finest long dark dress, Isabella was displaying a striking pair of ruby earrings.

"I apologize, Madam von Took. But I did not wish to tell you, considering that you and Lady Hanbrook were evidently already old friends. If I had told you, I might not have been allowed to come here. And I wanted to see Lucy on her birthday. What is wrong with that? You surely saw her smiling at me…"

"You will want to talk to her next, no doubt," Isabella tapped her arched fingers on the dining table before her. "Why does Lady Hanbrook object to your presence, Mr Harrison? I will ask her myself, of course – but I am interested to hear your explanation."

"When I was in the army some years back, my regiment was stationed in this area. A few men, including myself, were allocated to guard the manor from a group of criminals who had a vendetta against Lord Hanbrook. Lucy and I became friends during my stay – and from time to time, when I was on leave, I would return here when passing by. But three years ago, on my last visit, Lady Hanbrook spoke to me privately, advising me not to return. She felt that Lucy was becoming too fond of me – and she did not want her daughter to become involved with a man engaged in a dangerous occupation. My regiment was frequently having to quell those deemed to be 'troublemakers', including a few natives."

"Josette Hanbrook's mother lost her husband during army service when Josette and I were still children. I see…," Isabella reflected. "And what of the criminals? What became of them?"

"They were all rounded up by my regiment during my duty here," Karl declared.

Isabella studied his expression carefully. "And something happened involving you, particularly?" she ventured.

"You are perceptive, madam. I… I ambushed an intruder here, who tried to kidnap Lord Hanbrook. I had to kill him. But I took a bullet in the process," Karl muttered, grimacing at the memory. "Lucy nursed me, before the doctor reached me."

"So, Lady Hanbrook potentially sees you as a flawed hero," Isabella mused.

The music started up. Several people moved to the dance floor in the next room with their partners. Karl glanced around. Lucy wasn't in sight. The French schoolmistress who Isabella had introduced him to earlier, was now sat at the edge of the ballroom by herself. And close by, at the edge of the room where the terrace doors were open, stood Inspector Cooke. He had just taken a filled glass from a passing waiter…

Karl frowned at the sight of the unexpected extra guest. Now, where had Cooke been during the meal? Outside, guarding the manor? And what of Sergeant Allardyce? Why was Cooke here? Was he just taking precautions – or was he expecting trouble to brew?

"Well, shall we?" Isabella extended her hand to Karl.

"You are quite a forward-thinking lady, Isabella von Took," he noted. He took her hand anyway. "All you had to do was wait a little longer. I would have asked."

"I prefer not to wait on others, when I can lead," she retorted.

The lit candles around the walls of the grand ballroom were reflected on the chandelier adorning the centre of the ceiling. The two of them mingled with the dancers who were already moving to the sweet strains of the violins and the piano. A slow, gentle harmony to kick things off. Isabella's gloved hand was firm on Karl's right shoulder – and he applied equal firmness to his grip just above her left hip.

"You have seen the Inspector. You recognize him." Isabella stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes."

"What are you and your friend _really_ here for, Mr Harrison?"

He hesitated – then decided to take a risk, whilst keeping his voice low. If she knew something that could help him…

"Besides seeing Lucy again? I came to investigate what was behind the deaths of those animals around town. Now, I would like to know what has starting killing people in the area. I have experience of…certain matters…from my time in the army."

"Really? Perhaps we should share information. When we have privacy, of course…" Isabella paused in her movements. "Ah…"

"What?" Seeing Isabella's sharp eyes looking over his shoulder, Karl turned round. Major Bruckner was dancing with Lucy. She did not look entirely comfortable with him, though. The elder was almost a head taller than her, as well as being broader in his build. And he seemed to be leading their dance more often than not.

"Where is your friend, Mr Harrison?" Isabella distracted him, to his relief. "In Shadowbrook?"

"Thomas? Oh, I imagine he's keeping himself busy," Karl replied with the ghost of a smile.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

With the party in full swing and with the servants pre-occupied, Thomas Harrow walked along the short corridor confidently, remembering to look confident and act as though he had the right to be there. Keeping quiet about his business nonetheless, he slipped his skeleton key into the lock and got to work, checking over his shoulder. One young lady, dressed as a maid, slipped by from the direction of the servants' quarters – though Thomas did not recognize her.

He did note that her hair was particularly red…

The lock that his hand was covering 'clicked'. Keeping the door open just enough to allow a little light from the lit candle in the corridor, Thomas then used that to light his own candle, set on its hand-held tray, and sneaked inside the dark room he had gained access to – shutting the door to behind him.

Before him lay the study, with its wooden paneled furniture, its leather seats, and its hidden secrets…

Keeping his head down so to avoid being seen from outside by that sergeant lurking around in the grounds, Thomas applied his skeleton key to the drawers of Lord Hanbrook's desk. Soon, he was sitting on the floor behind the desk, reading from the now-opened scroll that he had delivered to Lord Hanbrook the previous day.

He bit his lip as he scanned the contents, then placed it back exactly as he had found it. He went through the remainder of the next drawer down – mentally retaining anything of useful knowledge. He had a good memory when it came to recalling what deeds other people did…

In the last drawer was a small metal box. Drawn to it, Thomas opened it up and found the deeds to Hanbrook Manor, as well as bank statements.

"Oh, dear. Not quite as rich as you should be – considering tonight's party, are yer, Georgie?" Thomas cackled softly to himself. He put the papers back…

"What's this?" He found one final paper, at the bottom of the box, in an old envelope. "Lord George and Lady Josette's wedding certificate. And Lucy's birth certificate? Heh, heh."

Thomas remaining good eye widened at he noticed something amiss...

"What the-!?"

The courier sat in silence, his mind racing. Then, making his decision, he started putting papers back into the box. He was looking forward to seeing the look on Karl's face…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Anne Marie was starting to feel uncomfortable as she sat at the edge of the ballroom. She was grateful for her foresight in having a best dress for an occasion such as this – but she was simply unaccustomed to being involved in upper-class society, which the majority of the guests present were clearly part of. Having arrived with no partner, she felt excluded from the dancing. Not that she was used to dancing, either…

Deciding to observe the nearby suited local dignitaries and their wives with their richly-colored dresses, as they made polite conversation of little importance, Anne Marie's gaze was drawn to one of the maids who, she noticed, was keeping out of sight of the other servants. This maid was carrying a silver platter of bite-sized food pieces for the non-dancing guests to sample. Underneath the platter, as she squeezed between Magistrate Kroft and Doctor Manning, the maid discreetly extracted the purse from the doctor's pocket.

Anne Marie's eyes widened. She had only seen because she had been sat at the right angle and had been looking the right way at the right time. And now she noticed, as the maid slipped away, that the thief had red hair beneath her cap…

" _Sacrebleu!"_ Anne Marie whispered to herself, in recognition of the other woman. Steeling herself, she stood up and started to make her way after Katarina Clark – in order to retrieve the doctor's purse.

"Good evening, my lady. I have noticed that you have not yet danced tonight." The smartly-attired man smiled widely as he stepped forward, blocking her way.

"Major Bruckner! Excuse-moi, de sil vous plait.I was just…"

He laid a firm hand around her wrist. A too-firm hand. "All I ask of you is one dance, mademoiselle."

She caught a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, and shuddered – now feeling more uncomfortable. "Is your wife not here, then, Major? Nor your mistress?" she challenged him.

Bruckner's eyes flashed in surprise, and annoyance. "Where did you learn of this slander, Miss Piaget? You have not been in Shadowbrook very long…"

"I have been around long enough to learn of…rumors…monsieur. Now, if you will kindly remove yourself from me..."

"One dance, Miss Piaget. Oh - and a peck on the cheek. Then I will forget your slur against me." The brown eyes were now narrowed into slits, as Bruckner drew in close and spoke slowly and with care over his words, right into her ear. "Or do you wish to be regarded amongst the townsfolk as a cold-hearted Frog who could not get a dance at the ball? The locals don't take that kindly to outsiders around here, you see. A few words in the right ears… The word passed onto your schoolchildren via some of the parents. Some of my workers don't like the new ideas that you are putting into their heads. The advancement of science. Respect for the primitive natives. Girls being able to do as much as boys… We don't want bad feelings to escalate in the town – do we? Now. Let us dance."

"Oh, there you are, Madame! I'm sorry that I kept you waiting!" a voice startled them both.

Looking to her left, Anne Marie saw the playwright, Victor Danforth, standing close by.

Seeing that Bruckner was thrown off-balance. The schoolteacher took the lifeline thrown to her, as she forced a smile. "…for our dance, Monsieur Danforth?"

"Ah…Yes, indeed." Victor smiled nervously at the stony-faced Major. He glanced at Bruckner's rigid hand-still gripping Anne Marie. "Or perhaps I can regale you both with an example of my singing prowess… The Major here has experience of my loud voice and the wide-ranging notes that I can reach!"

"I do indeed recall…"Anne Marie saw Major Bruckner shudder. Abruptly, he released his captive and – without a word – turned and melted back into the rest of the crowd.

"Merci, beaucoup," Anne Marie squeezed Victor's hand.

"That's quite all right, Madame. I couldn't hear what he was saying – but it was clear to me, as a trained observer of human interaction, that you needed assistance. Not that I was sure that I could do much if he did not leave you be. And, well…" His face fell. For a moment he reminded her of a sad puppy.

"Well what, monsieur?"

"I have not found anyone to dance with yet, tonight, either."

Anne Marie laughed in relief and interlinked her arm in his as she led him to the dance floor. "Then let us seek some comfort in each other, Monsieur Danforth. Oui?"

"Please… Call me Victor. I… I find your voice delightful, Mademoiselle…?"

"Piaget. But call me Anne Marie," she answered as they took up their promenade positions and joined in with the other dancers moving gracefully in time to the sweet music – her concern about Katarina overlooked, as she tried to relax after her unpleasant brush with Major Bruckner.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

With the babble of voice fading away behind him, as he strode forward, Karl found his quarry seating in the gazebo, overlooking the gardens – just out of the reach of the nearest torchlight fitted to the stone walls bordering the terrace. For a moment, he stood still on the garden path and took in the image of the young woman that she had become – and how she had grown from the girl that he had teased and played with games with when he had been posted here. Games that she had been happy to share with him – croquet, and hide and seek in the maze. The occasional shared horse ride, too.

Lucy was staring sadly at the pond before her when Karl approached. Looking up and seeing him, her expression changed immediately to a bright smile – and she rose to her feet, moving forward to meet him halfway on the path. She pecked him on the cheek, and he squeezed her momentarily.

"I am glad to see you looking well, Lucy."

"Welcome back! Three years you've been away."

"You kept count…"

"I have! It's been too long, Karl. I didn't think you would make it!"

"I wasn't going to miss your night, Lucy. Despite your mother's disapproval of me," he reassured her.

"Do not let her stop you. She may not approve of you being a soldier who is liable to get hurt – but papa likes you, especially since you did deal with that horrid man who came here after him!"

"Well… I may be still dressed in my uniform, Miss Hanbrook. But that's partly for show. I have now finished my service. I am now a free agent!"

Lucy's mouth dropped open. "You are…? So…, do you now have a job that mother will approve of?"

"Ah… No. I came back to see you – but there's work for me here too, it seems."

"Such as…?"

"Let's sit down, Lucy. I never really told you about some of the things I came across when I saw service in the continental army. Please listen to what I have to say. And remember – we made a pledge to each other, years ago…"

"…never to lie to each other. I know." Lucy nodded. She looked grim. "I'm ready to listen, Karl."

In the next few minutes, Karl made his explanations. How, during his time in the 4th Light Dragoons, he experienced activity of creatures that could not have existed. And, even when his superiors were aware of the situations after the dust had settled, those creatures still did not officially exist. Reports of a banshee that he helped to banish in New York State. A warlock raising the dead who was terrorizing a village in Pennsylvania, before the squad Karl fought with ended his reign of terror. A squad that one-by-one _joined_ the enemy's forces as they were killed by the walking dead and ghouls – leaving just Karl and one soldier who had barely held onto his sanity in the aftermath.

"…I know that it all seems incredible. But it is all true. And now something…"

"…has been killing those animals in the last month," Lucy whispered.

"More than that. Men and women are dying – with some of them being turned to stone! It's true – I swear!"

"Karl… I believe you…" Lucy's voice shook. She shivered. The air was turning foggy. "Last night… Something ghastly happened. In the study…"

"…the wall bled. Isabella von Took has told me," Karl admitted. "That Inspector Cooke seems determined to refuse that there are unearthly forces at work. Do you know why he is here tonight?"

Lucy shook her head. "Mother and Father are definitely keeping secrets from me, Karl. I sometimes wonder if they hold secrets from each other. In fact, mother seemed determined, when I returned from my horse riding with Miss O'Hare, for me to spend my time in my room to prepare for the party. I had far more time to prepare than I needed."

Karl stroked his beard. "Isabella told me of an incident involving her and your mother in the garden, this afternoon…" He related the story.

"A stray cat? In the maze? And it vanished mysteriously?" Lucy looked bewildered. "Could it be…the cat of Elaine Bartlett?"

"Who?"

"Oh! Of course. You were not around when she was alleged to have committed her reign of terror. She and her husband moved into the area nearly three years ago, building a new house in the woods. Not long afterwards, Mr Bartlett was caught having an affair. In the months that followed, both he and his lover died in mysterious circumstances. Then farm animals began to sicken and die. Rumors began to fly, Karl…"

"Let me guess," he interrupted. "She was accused of being a witch."

"Well, actually. The first rumor was that Elaine Bartlett tried to gain favor with the town elders, including my parents – in order to avoid being charged with the odd deaths of Mr Bartlett and his lover. Miss O'Hare would not tell the details, but I realized from her that she and the other elders all grew to fear Elaine Bartlett. It was then that the accusations of witchcraft began flying around, as babies started dying – babies from houses where Elaine Bartlett's cat, Solomon, was caught sneaking into."

"So what happened?" Karl pressed Lucy.

"I was not there. My parents forbade me to attend any of it. Mrs Bartlett was arrested at the start of October, last year, on the charges of witchcraft committed against livestock and the people. At her trial, she was found guilty – but even at her hanging, outside of the town hall, she pleaded her innocence. I have heard from the groundskeeper here, Mr Devlin, that the Shadow Witch – as they were calling her now – cried out her last words with fury, even as the hangman's rope was about to go around her neck. She said. 'You have not seen the last of me! Four seasons hence, on All Hallow's Eve, I shall return and plunge this town into darkness… You… will all…die!'" Lucy fell quiet for a moment and shivered – both from the chill air, and from her own unease. "Minutes later, she was dangling, Karl. So Mr Devlin said."

"And one year on, All Hallow's Eve is almost upon us," Karl thought aloud. "If this 'Shadow Witch' is indeed somehow behind these latest animal slaughters and the deaths of those recent people, then _how_ is she doing it? What manner of creature are we dealing with?"

"Karl…" Lucy angled her face towards him. "Since I am now officially an adult, mother should not stop me from being with whom I want to be with… Perhaps we should team up and investigate these matters together?"

His eyes widened at the thought. "It will be dangerous, Lucy. Whatever is making its presence felt, it is deadly. People have been killed – either torn apart or turned into husks, or turned into statues."

"Husks!?"

"Oh, yes. I've seen the evidence, Lucy – even if Inspector Cooke is still struggling to accept that. If you wish to help me with this investigation, we will need to watch each other's backs…"

"Karl – I know you, as well as my parents, wish to shield me from harm. But I do see something of how the ordinary people live, on my travels. I am only too aware of how cocooned I am from the woes of the world. I don't wish to be rich, yet helpless. I wish to help my fellow human beings to live better lives, free from misfortune and early death! If something…unearthly…is killing my father's people, then I have to do something! I am educated. I can ride, and shoot. I know the area…"

Karl slapped himself in annoyance.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to bring you your birthday gift! Here… Happy birthday to you, Lucy Hanbrook." Karl reached into the inside pocket of his green army jacket and presented her with a sapphire necklace. "Sorry it's not in a box! But I know blue and greens are your favorite colors."

"Oh… Thank you!" Lucy felt the weight of the jewel in her hands, and smiled as she allowed Karl to fit it around her slim neck. With that done, she gave her friend an affectionate squeeze. "So… Can I take this as a sign of acceptance that we can work together?"

"Well, yes. I will be happy for you to work with me and Thomas…"

"Thomas… That one-eyed courier, Thomas Harrow?"

"That's him."

"Oh! I've seen him around the manor again yesterday. He's rather…lacking…in the manner of a gentleman." Lucy pouted.

Karl laughed. "I am sure he would not disagree with you, Lucy. But apart from you, he's the nearest I have to a friend around here, at present. He's rough, sure – but he's fine."

"All right. I guess I can learn to work with Thomas, as well as you. What about Isabella von Took, your dance partner? Where is she now?"

"After we exchanged information about our recent strange experiences, I said that I had to give you your birthday present." Karl made a peeved expression. "I find her to be…sly. And you…? You did not seem to be happy with Major Bruckner."

"I was not. Father and Mother seem to want to be firm friends with him, so they called upon me to dance with the Major. But there is something…repulsive…about him in his eyes. And he did not bring his wife to the par-!"

"I say!"

Startled, Karl and Lucy looked up, to see the plump figure of Victor Danforth striding across to them. He was fanning himself with his hand. "Good evening, Miss Lucy, Mr…"

"…Harrison. Good evening to you. Too warm in the ballroom?" Karl smiled.

"Indeed. I have just had a delightful couple of dances with that charming French lady from the town – but she has now had to see to…" He coughed. "…her toilette. In the meantime, I thought I would look at these gardens in the moonlight. Er, not that I can see much of the moon through those thick clouds… But anyway, may I again congratulate you upon coming of age, Miss Hanbrook!"

Lucy giggled as she allowed the playwright to take her hand and kiss it. "Thank you for your play recital. I enjoyed it," she declared.

Karl stiffened as he saw Thomas standing at the base of the steps leading to the terrace. The courier was looking directly at him.

"Excuse me, Lucy. Thomas requires me…" Karl stood up.

"Don't worry about me, Karl. Mr Danforth will keep me company here, until you get back – won't you, sir?"

"What? Oh yes!" The balding man replied. "So long as Mademoiselle Piaget doesn't fret over where I am. I had to rescue her from the Major, from what she told me…"

"Really? Tell me more…" Lucy patted the seat next to her, inviting Victor to join her…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Moving towards the shadows at the outside edge of the maze, Karl stopped and faced Thomas.

"Right… We should be out of earshot here. So, did it all go well enough?" he asked.

Thomas gave a lop-sided grin. "Got inside the study and the desk drawers easy enough. Didn't take any money, as I promised you…"

"Good. If that was missing, his lordship will be aware that someone…"

"Don't you worry. I made sure that everything was back in its place. And the Hanbrooks would indeed miss their money, if I took it – because they ain't well off! That would explain why the extension wing is still in a mess. I've also come across a letter from Major Lucien Bruckner to his lordship – saying that he'll pay him money if Georgie continues to 'keep his lips sealed' about his military past…"

"What about his past?"

"Bruckner was dishonorably discharged, a few years back. Don't know why. But listen. Bruckner wrote that in the future he would divorce his wife, and leave her 'the farm'. He would be willing to refuse any dowry, should there be any chance of taking Lucy's hand in marriage…"

Karl's face turned rigid. "He…wrote that?"

"Uh-huh. Got a fancy for her, yourself – ain't ya?" Thomas smirked.

"Thomas…! She is a good friend. She saved my life here! As I defended her father… Talking of whom, do you expect me to believe that he is agreeing to marry his daughter to a man who she doesn't even like – let alone love…? My God. If he's planning to inherit the manor when both Lord and Lady Hanbrook have departed this world, by marrying Lucy…"

"Well. It seems that Bruckner has some hold over Lord Georgie. But you need to keep your voice down. There's more to tell! I found the scroll that I delivered to his lordship from the mayor in Tidewater. Carver writes that the smugglers are becoming more active – someone prominent in Shadowbrook seems to be aiding them. Also, that 'Jessica' is predicting the return of 'the Shadow Witch', and that she has to be stopped from carrying out her revenge against all of the elders of both Shadowbrook and Tidewater, after they failed to honor their agreement with her, when she got rid of-"

A scream interrupted Thomas's narrative. It was a female scream. Karl recognized it immediately – and he spun round, just as the man's scream joined Lucy's repeated one. There was the flapping of wings. Large wings. Not a bird…

Karl's keen eyes peered into the gardens and saw…

"Thomas!" Karl hissed. "Grab the saber that is hanging inside the display case in the hallway. Now!"

"On it!" Thomas bolted for the house, via the nearby servants' quarters – whilst Karl ran towards the figures who were attempting to flee towards the manor.

Close by, Lucy was being held by Victor's hand as they tried to cross the gardens – but she then tripped over her long dress, and fell onto the path.

"Mr Danforth! Help…!"

But Victor was still running towards the terrace steps, too blinded in his panic to realize that the pull on his hand had vanished. As he stopped and collapsed against the nearest window of the ballroom, panting – he suddenly snapped into focus, and cried out.

"Miss Lucy! Oh, I am so sorry-!"

Glaring at him, Lucy tried to pick herself back up. She kicked off her shoes.

With a raven-like cry, the creature dropped down from the mist above and landed in the center of the gardens, right before her – and it turned its green-grey face towards Lucy. It held its bat-like wings wide, blocking the young lady's flight to safety, as it bared its fangs and claws, hissing maliciously...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

 **Meeting Of The Elders**

 **The Manor:**

The creature gave a hideous _screech_ , and swung forward at Lucy – just as she gathered her wits and rolled away. She felt a sharp pain, and – pressing a hand to her chest – struggled to get to her feet, whilst she tried to support herself on her other hand.

"Over here!"

Both Lucy and her assailant froze. Turning around sharply, they spied Inspector Cooke sprinting from around the west side of Hanbrook Manor, running towards them as he raised his pistol. On his heels were about three militia guards. The uniformed men quickly dropped to their knees, and raised their loaded rifles.

 _They were already here…?_ The thought struck Lucy – just before the first shots rang out, assailing her hearing, even as the creature was hit by some of the shots. Immediately, however, a problem presented itself. The hide of the monster was thick – and after a few seconds Lucy, from her close-up perspective, watched in horror as the bullets were _pushed_ out from the grayish-green skin of the horror.

Another screech split the evening air, reaching the ears of the party attendees. Finding part of the low enclosure wall around the fountain to lean her weight on as she pulled herself up, Lucy whimpered and tried to control her racing heartbeat. The creature was taking to the air now with its wings, gaining a few feet – before it launched itself at Inspector Cooke and the posted militia, swinging wildly with its taloned arms and clawed feet. One man cried out and fell as he was slashed. The others dived for whatever cover they could find in their chaotic panic.

Fearfully, Lucy looked down upon herself, and gasped, slowly pulling away the hand that had clamped against her chest. There was a wound – but only a minor one. Instead, it was her new necklace that had taken the bulk of the blow – the chain link was now severed, and the sharp-edged sapphire was now cupped in her shaking hand.

 _Lucky old me, again…_ She told herself. She had a history known to Karl and her family of being fortunate in evading serious injury – ever since growing up as a risk-taking young girl.

"Lucy! Get clear!"

She shot her face up, breaking out of her trance. Karl was at the bottom of the steps below the terrace now. Thomas was next to him, handing over a sword. The saber from the display case in the house, to be more exact…

"Karl!" she shouted back. But even as she called out, the creature turned its attention from the moaning, injured militia, and back to her. Flapping its bat-like wings, it rose again from the gravel of the garden path and dived towards her – a taloned hand outstretched…

Gasping, Lucy sprinted for the nearby entrance of the hedge maze. She had nearly reached it when the displacement of air told her she had ran out of time. Immediately, she spun round, raised her clenched hand, and swung out with the narrowest edge of the cut sapphire – even as she ducked down.

The fiend screamed as the jewel sliced across the skin of its throat. Then its horizontally-inclined body sailed over its crouched prey. Distracted, the monster's direction of flight changed slightly. It was enough to cause it to crash into the corner of the maze, and consequently it then somersaulted to the ground.

Lucy panted for breath, hearing the screams of her mother and the party guests from the open ballroom doors. She also heard Inspector Cooke calling out for 'Mr Morgan'…

 _Harlow Morgan…!?_

Then she saw Karl stepping forward with his saber raised. His free hand gently, but firmly, was pushing the goatee-bearded Inspector aside.

"I'll handle this!" Karl declared. Then he dashed forward towards the now-stirring monstrosity, placing himself between it and Lucy.

"Karl – it has a thick hide!" she warned him.

"Thank you for the warning! Get clear!" he called back, keeping his eyes on the hateful glare of the creature as it folded in its damaged wings and rose once more on its strong-looking legs. He saw that one of its talons was still red with the blood from Lucy's wound…

"You fiend…," Karl spat. He and the creature made their battle cries at the same time – and they lashed out at each other. As Inspector Cooke and Thomas pulled Lucy back to safety, she watched – mesmerized – as Karl swung his sword expertly, and twisted away to avoid the cruel-looking talons. He used the walls of the garden fixtures to his advantage – jumping up upon one wall, and leaping across to another as he evaded the monster's swipes. After a few moments, Karl was kicked back by the creature as it took off into the air with only the one working wing. Momentarily winded as he crashed against the marble steps leading up to the ballroom, Karl gritted his teeth and forced himself to lift his sword in both arms as his inhuman opponent dived to finish him off. Lucy screamed. The men cried out in terror. But just as the monster's fetid breath hit Karl, he swung down at an angle – and his blade wedged itself deep into the creature's neck. With an expression of shock that was nearly human, the being tried to pull the blade out of its body with its hands. Gray blood oozed out of the wound, dripping down its muscular torso.

Karl held firm with his sweat-laden hands, not daring to let go.

With a final, agonized _screech_ , the monstrosity buckled sideways and tumbled down the stairs, landing at the base of them with a heavy 'thud'. It gave a few, raspy breaths – then become deadly still.

Karl retrieved the saber, and closed his eyes in relief. He had seen death enough times to know even a being such as this was done for.

"Get down!" Inspector Cooke yelled. There was _another_ 'screech' filling the air close by…

There was a 'bang', followed by an inhuman roar. Karl opened his eyes to see a _second_ winged creature being struck by a net that had just spread out as it descended. A net that had apparently just been fired from a stocky-looking gun as a cartridge. The shooter was a balding, bespectacled man – aged in his fifties – with wide sideburns that led downwards into his thick, neatly-trimmed brown beard. He wore a white shirt, a green waistcoat, black slacks, and black shoes.

"I…I got it!" the man exclaimed, apparently surprised by his success.

The hovering creature, now covered by the net that was weighted down around its edging by stone pegs, promptly crashed into the fountain below. The splash of water caught the wailing Inspector Cooke, Lucy, and Thomas. But as the creature hissed and tried to push itself back up from the basin of the fountain, the Inspector pushed the barrel of his pistol through a gap in the netting at the being's head, at close range.

"No, you will not move again!" he declared with determination.

The gunshot that followed saw the fiend's head punched open by the bullet. It collapsed face down, its fluid seeping into the water…

Karl saw the man with the net gun collapse upon his knees. He dropped his weapon and clutched his ribs, as if in pain.

"Mr Morgan… Are you all right?" Inspector Cooke called out. "That one you brought down… It injured you when it attacked us at the front of the house, did it not?"

"Yes, Inspector. But…I will be fine. See to the others…," Harlow Morgan gasped.

"Mr Morgan! Thank you!" Lucy ran over to him. "Let me help you. I do know how to treat wounds…"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Honestly, Lucy. It was just a scratch."

"It looked more than that to me…," Karl muttered, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. He glanced between the Welsh man and Lucy. "You know each other, then?"

"Oh yes, sir! I have come across Miss Hanbrook during her visits to Shadowbrook. It is a pleasure to have a friendly face to talk to. Especially one who takes an interest in my work." Harlow smile dropped as he kept his right hand pressed against his injured ribs. "My apologies, sir. I am unable to offer you my hand to shake, if we making introductions…"

Karl bowed. "Apologies accepted - as is your help - Mr Morgan. I am Karl Harrison – a childhood friend of Lucy's."

"Ahh…yes. Lucy has often spoken fondly of you to me. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Harrison."

"Likewise… And…your work?"

"I am an inventor. I dabble – a lot. Now, please excuse me." Nodding to Lucy, Karl, and Thomas, Harlow Morgan gathered the remains of his net gun – using both hands to do so, Karl noted, despite the older man's waistcoat being stained red.

As the conversation unfolded, the Inspector was barking orders at Sergeant Allardyce and those amongst the militia men who were still standing to see to those who were injured. Suddenly, there was a cry from the terrace. Everyone turned, to see Lady Hanbrook running down the steps to seize Lucy in a tight hug. Close behind her, Lord Hanbrook and Major Bruckner stopped running as they laid eyes upon the corpses of the two winged monstrosities. Karl glanced behind them, to see Isabella von Took and Anne Marie Piaget at the top of the terrace steps – who were also stupefied at the sight of the downed fiends. Anne Marie stooped down and helped up Victor Danforth, who was gibbering.

"Oh my dear baby! Are you hurt?" Lady Hanbrook's face was the most animated Karl had ever since it.

"I…I am well enough, mother. Mr Harrison defended me…," Lucy managed to croak out.

"Did he now?" Lady Hanbrook looked up at Karl, who was straightened himself, conscious of the minor tears in his uniform. She dipped her head at him. "It seems that your arrival here tonight was fortunate after all."

"By that, I believe my wife is saying 'Thank you for what you did, Mr Harrison'." Lord Hanbrook smiled. His gaze shifted to the saber that was still in Karl's hand.

"Oh… Apologies for…borrowing this in the moment of crisis." Karl offered the saber back to his lordship.

Lord Hanbrook exchanged a look with his wife. "I think…, given the circumstances, Mr Harrison… You should keep the saber. As a token of our gratitude."

Lady Hanbrook paused, but then solemnly nodded in agreement.

Karl slotted the weapon away in its sheath and bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, your lordship and ladyship. However, the others here played their part too – it wasn't just me. And Lucy also displayed courage in her distress. She…"

"Oh, Karl…" Disengaging herself from her mother's hold, Lucy stepped forward to retrieve the broken sapphire necklace. The sharp edge of the cut jewel was still stained with blood from her inhuman attacker. "It got broke in the struggle."

Karl sighed. "Never mind… I'm glad that you are safe now, Miss Lucy," he declared, keeping his tone formal in the presence of her parents.

Inspector Cooke stepped forward towards Karl and Thomas, but kept his gaze on the soldier. "I am grateful to your honorable gesture, as you stepped forward to deal with this…thing, Mr Harrison." He paused and regarded them both now. "I apologize to you gentlemen… It seems that I was too rash in regarding you as suspects to the deaths that had occurred."

"No matter…" Karl returned Cooke's steady gaze. "How come you were here with the militia tonight?"

"I was concerned that too many people in one location…might have attracted…something. I was right to take precautions," Cooke answered.

"Damn well that you did, Inspector," Bruckner grunted his appreciation. His eyes narrowed as he took in the slain winged beings. "What in the devil's name are they…?"

Cooke released a drawn-out sigh. "I have no idea," he admitted.

Lady Hanbrook eyed the creatures with disgust. Her lip trembled. "Inspector Cooke, I am truly relieved that the scourge plaguing this community has now been overcome. But kindly remove these…these grotesque…fiends from the property!"

"I will see to the arrangements, your ladyship and your lordship. Please return to your party," Inspector Cooke muttered.

"The party has now been ruined!"

"No – it has not, mother!" Lucy took hold of one of her mother's arms, as she attempted to return both of her parents to the ballroom. "We can celebrate our deliverance from the shadow those creatures had cast over our town…" Looking back over her shoulder, Lucy mouthed a 'thank you' to Karl and Thomas.

"I think some brandy is called for to steady the nerves of our guests," Lord Hanbrook speculated, his expression and posture still tense.

The sober mood began to dissipate as the Hanbrooks re-entered the ballroom, followed by Major Bruckner. With Cooke and Allardyce overseeing Harlow Morgan and the injured men, Karl and Thomas joined Isabella, Anne Marie, and Victor at the top of the marble stairs.

"Well… The evening has certainly been…interesting," Isabella remarked drily, one eyebrow lifted as she moved towards the creature Karl had killed.

"Don't touch it, you fool!" Thomas snapped.

"And vhy not?" Isabella bristled, control over her native accent slipping, due to her annoyance of how she had just been addressed.

"Because people 'ave been turned to stone by these freaks!" he snapped at the noblewoman. "Maybe it's done by touch."

"Really?" Isabella gestured with her head towards the fountain where Allardyce and a pair of militia were resorting to pulling out the creature from the basin with their bare arms. "That…grotesque thing…doesn't seem to be affecting anyone, now that it's dead."

"There was another one…" Victor croaked.

"What?" gasped Anne Marie.

"On the ground, in-between the trees of the woods outside of the estate… I glimpsed it during the fighting…" The playwright's wide eyes shifted quickly from one face to another on each of those gathered around him. "It's not there now!"

Isabella touched the hard hide of the downed monster without fear. She then examined her palm. "No change to my hand. And I fail to see how these creatures caused the weeping wall that I told you about, Mr Harrison," she declared.

"Mon dieu! What?" Anne Marie's face was turning paler.

Karl stroked his beard with his index finger. "No… I believe that you are right, Madam Von Took. Whatever is going on around here has not ended. Instead, it has only started to show its hand."

"Or its talons and wings…," Thomas added his non-cheery thought.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

After the celebratory drinks to the defeat of the creatures that were now becoming referred to as 'the grotesques', Lucy's birthday party was wrapped up by her parents – who were now keen to see their guests leave in an orderly fashion, so that those affected by the attack of the fiends could be seen to. With the cook still missing and Karl insisting that she was now dead, Lord Hanbrook ordered that her room be made available as overnight accommodation to Lucy's rescuer. Whilst Lady Hanbrook wanted the man who had failed to protect her daughter gone from the manor as soon as possible. That man being Victor Danforth – who was still in something of a state of shock.

After hearing Victor's account of what had happened in the garden, Anne Marie did not agree with Lady Hanbrook's cold attitude. She could not be seen to share her bedroom with him for the night, though.

"That would be…improper…Monsieur Danforth. After all, we barely know each other," she told him – with the hint of a smile.

Sighing, Karl handed Victor the key to the cook's room – the key that he had just been given. "Keep a low profile, Mr Danforth. In the morning, gather your items and leave – before Lady Hanbrook sees you."

"But Madam von Took here is a friend of her ladyship…," Anne Marie pointed out.

"Do not worry. I am, and will be, totally oblivious to your presence in the manor, Mr Danforth," Isabella retorted with a smirk.

Victor nodded his thanks at his new acquaintances. "But where will you stay, Mr Harrison?"

"At my lodgings in Shadowbrook. Thomas here has the room next to mine. And now, goodnight to you all," Karl declared, as he and Thomas left the others.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

In the morning, as he was getting dressed, Victor answered the rap on his door – to find Anne Marie. With a finger pressed against her mouth, the schoolmistress passed to him the wrapped up freshly-baked portion of bread and butter.

"Au revoir!" she whispered, as she slipped away.

"Er… Merci. And…, au revoir…" Victor shook his head in amazement, as he closed the door back to.

After his makeshift breakfast, he tried to sneak around the manor – hoping to avoid crossing into the path of Lady Hanbrook in particular. Or sneak as well as a man of his girth was able to anyway, as he tiptoed sideways along the first-floor corridor leading from the servants' quarters and peeped around the corners of the walls. For his own piece of mind, there was something that he had to do before leaving…

From what he could see and hear downstairs, there seemed to be an awful lot of activity. Several people seemed to be just arriving at the manor.

There she was! Just coming out of the dining room. Taking care to avoid making much noise, he took long strides in order to catch up with her.

"Miss Lucy!" he hissed.

She spun round, and yelped. Grabbing hold of the front of her long skirt, the younger Hanbrook ran away from him. Forcing himself on, Victor caught up with her and grabbed her hand.

"Get off me! Mother told me you had gone from here!"

"Please keep your voice down, Miss Lucy! I only want to…"

But after some effort, she had yanked her hand out of his grip. Lucy then dashed into the nearest room – slamming the door to behind her.

Victor gulped. Deciding that he was not going to back down where his honor was concerned, he strode forward and wrestled with Lucy for control over the door knob before she could lock the door. After a few moments, he managed to push his way into the room beyond.

His eyes widened. It was a small, but well-stocked library of books. In the middle of the room was a wide, circular table, with eight chairs placed round it.

Lucy rubbed her now-sore hand as she glared at him. "Do I have to yell for the servants, Mr Danforth?" she bristled. "I am not happy at how you ran on without me, last night! I could have been…!"

"…killed. Yes, I know." Victor shut the door to behind him as he hung his head. He took a few steps towards her. "I wish to apol-"

"Please – just leave!" Lucy ducked underneath the huge table, slipping though the gap between two chairs with ease. "You should not have sneaked up on me in the corridor! After last night, I am scared of everything…"

Victor groaned. He slapped himself in his annoyance at his ongoing lack of wisdom in how to deal with the challenge he had set himself. Then he heard the voices in the corridor, coming closer. One of them was definitely…

"Lady Hanbrook! Oh, I say!" Victor's eyes quickly shot around the library. There was no other exit. Nowhere to hide, except…

"I am sorry for all of this, Miss Lucy!" he rasped, as he got down upon his knees and wiggled his way underneath the table to join the speechless young lady already hiding there.

"What in God's name are you…?" Lucy gasped. She trailed off, seeing Victor's finger pressed against his lips.

"Alas, I am not a brave man! Not against…winged monsters. And not even against irate mothers!" he whispered. "Now… We must be still – and silent!"

Lucy was about to argue, when the door was opened wide. Lord and Lady Hanbrook strode into the library – followed by several other people. There was a low murmur of voices. It was the voices - as well as what Victor and Lucy could see of the feet and lower legs of the visitors - that told them who had now inadvertently surrounded them.

The stream of people coming into the library eventually ceased. Six of the chairs were pulled back slightly, so that they could be sat upon. Victor and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed looks of barely-suppressed panic, realizing that they would be trapped together where they were, keeping their silence – otherwise, to reveal and explain themselves to the full compliment of Shadowbrook's town elders.

 _Oh, dear lord! Do not let me develop cramp – or even a sneeze…_ Victor pleaded silently.

More footsteps approached. A creaking floorboard sounded, making Victor shudder. There was the noise of something being placed on the table.

"Your tea and coffee, sirs," a meek female voice declared.

"Thank you Selena. You too, Delani. You may both go now," Lord Hanbrook replied in his calm, measured tones.

Seconds later, after the door had been shut again, the Reverend Harding broke the silence that had fallen.

"Personally, I would prefer something stronger to drink, right now, given the news that I received in your despatch – sent by that unkempt Mr Harrow…"

"Maybe so. But you should avoid slipping back into your bad habits, Elijah," Lady Hanbrook retorted, her voice sharp and clear. "We need to have clear heads, right now. Despite the deaths of those…grotesque…creatures, we must all take precautions. I am adamant that Solomon was in the maze yesterday! And he vanished as…unnaturally…as he appeared. It can only mean…" She trailed off.

"…that the spirit of his mistress is still in the locality – and not in the hell where she belongs," Harding hissed. "So how is this possible? Did her spirit do a deal with the devil?"

"She did vow to return around this time of year. Around the first anniversary of her death," Doctor Manning remarked, as he filled a cup from the teapot.

"Her fight against the Delion Dryad… I wonder…if somehow, she was able to absorb some of the powers of that creature. Adding to her own. If this was so, her spirit may be able to now exert influence over animals and trees." Sophie O'Hare speculated.

Kroft snorted in agitation. "So, the men at the crossroads were torn apart by some wild animal, controlled by the Shadow Witch? Is that what you are saying, Miss O'Hare?"

"I…I am not sure, Magistrate. But I have my doubts that we are only dealing with one enemy…" She tapped her fingers on the table, and then stopped. "What do we tell Major Bruckner – or that Inspector?"

"Where it comes to Elaine Bartlett? As little as possible," Lord Hanbrook answered. "As to the…grotesque beings…let the Inspector do what he likes with them, even if he takes their bodies back to Boston. I have never seen the like of them before – in spite of the horrors we have suffered from the local ghosts, and the wretched Delion Dryad and our…Shadow Witch."

"If Bartlett has indeed returned, we need to have a plan of action!" Kroft angrily thumped the table, making the crockery placed on it shake. "If she was responsible for those winged things, then where did they come from? And how do we track down her shade – or even a cat that appears and disappears like a ghost itself!?"

"A reasonable set of questions, Tiberius," Harding sniffed. "Clearly, spiritual means of protection are called for. I will consider what I can provide… In the meantime, perhaps Bartlett's shade is lingering around the ruins of her home in the olde woods?"

"I think not," Sophie objected. "I was there recently with Lucy during our horse ride together. I walked around the ruins, to see if I could sense Elaine's spirit. I felt nothing."

There was a snort from the reverend. "During the daytime… You would have more success at night," he ventured. "And you still call her by her first name?"

"My apologies, good sir. Old habits die har-"

Sophie was interrupted by the footsteps in the hallway outside, followed by the knock on the door. As Lord Hanbrook bade an "Enter!", the door was opened wide – revealing the broad figure of Major Bruckner. Behind him was Inspector Cooke.

"Ah… Major. Inspector Cooke. Please both take a seat. We have just started our discussion regarding…last night," Lord Hanbrook kept his voice steady. "It has been agreed to let you and your sergeant handle those…winged corpses. Do you know what you will do with them?"

"I am not certain, your lordship…" Cooke paused as he pulled out a chair and sat down. Then he spoke again. "Maybe an autopsy on one of the creatures would be in order – before I return to Boston. Where would I have the facilities to carry out such a task in this area?"

"My doctor's office," answered Manning. "I have a room that acts as a mortuary. And the necessary tools are there."

"So," Major Bruckner's voice barked. "What do we elders have to say about these…winged creatures from last night? Were they responsible for all of those people dying?"

"That…," Lord Hanbrook drew in a deep breath, "…is what the good Inspector, aided by Doctor Manning, or his deputy, will find out. Will you not, Inspector Cooke?"

"I will endeavor to discover what I can, your lordship," Cooke replied. "But… But that still leaves the mystery of why some of your people have gone missing – and been replaced with statues in their likeness…"

"There is no man in the vicinity that has the skill, or resources, to make those statues. It all appears to be some joke in poor taste." Kroft sniffed. "Now… To business. I will instruct Captain Townsend and his men to gather those…grotesques…on some carts and deliver them to the Doctor's office, so that you can study them…"

The meeting ended about a quarter of an hour later. Or so Victor gauged, since he was too frightened to even glance at his watch, in case the movement of his clothes made a noise. Lord Hanbrook called an end to the proceedings, and the elders left, along with Inspector Cooke. Only when they were certain that everyone had truly exited the room, did Victor gasp and roll himself from underneath the table and Lucy helped him back up.

"Well that was…interesting!" Victor declared as he thanked his unwitting accomplice. Then his smile of relief dropped as he saw the forlorn look on Lucy's face. "What…is it, Miss Hanbrook?"

"I regard Miss O'Hare as a friend…, but she has never told me those things before…" Lucy regarded Victor. "They are not even prepared to tell Inspector Cooke any more than they have to! How many other secrets are the town elders hiding, Mr Danforth? What else have my own parents not told me? And, perhaps…"

Victor concluded her line of thought. "…what secrets are they possibly hiding from each other?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

 **Teamwork**

 **Shadowbrook:**

" _What!?"_

Thomas smirked at the expression of sheer astonishment on Karl Harrison's face. He lounged back in the chair, and took another swig of the cheap wine Karl had poured to encourage his guest to spill the beans. They were in Karl's lodgings at the town's dingy tavern. The furnishings were basic, the windows were draughty, and the walls cracked in places in both of their separate sets of rooms – but they provided a dry and half-decent base for them to recuperate and make plans, nevertheless.

"You heard me right, Karl. I found Miss Lucy's birth certificate. The date of her being born was changed. I could tell by studying the paper, real close. That girl is actually now twenty-two years of age as per last night - not twenty and one!"

Karl sat down on the side of his bed and rubbed his brow. "Why would her parents have her birth certificate altered so?" he muttered. "Lucy has never said anything of this to me – which means it is likely that she knows nothing of this." He looked across to his colleague. "What else did you find?"

"Why change the certificate indeed? Anyway, the only other thing I didn't get to tell you last night was some dirt on Major Lucien Bruckner." Thomas's annoying grin grew wider. "He's been a _baaaddd_ boy…"

"How so?"

"It was in that envelope I rode into the manor with from Mayor Carver in Tidewater. The Mayor's been keeping tabs on some folk for years, it seems. Anyways, Bruckner managed to build up a reputation for abusing servant boys in the army – and having his way with whichever women he takes a shine to. The army have tried to keep it quiet – but it got to the point that the big wigs in the military decided to kick Bruckner out, before he did something that even they couldn't stop getting out into the wider world. Bruckner didn't retire – he was a military disgrace!" Thomas sloshed the remaining dregs of wine round in his glass. "I'd been speaking to one of those pretty wretches behind the bar yesterday. She told me that Bruckner's men are regarded as louts."

"So that woman who fled into the olde woods, only to be reduced to a husk…," Karl ventured.

"…was being chased by that man who you think was turned to stone. One of Bruckner's men, yeah. But that don't explain what tore apart the other man whose remains we saw," Thomas pointed out. "So… What do we do now, matey?"

"There's so much to think about – and yet where to start…?"

Karl's thoughts were disturbed by a knocking at the door. The two men exchanged a suspicious glance, and both of them tip-toed to stand either side of the door. Thomas cocked back the safety on his drawn pistol – and Karl held a silver dagger at the ready.

"Who is it?" Karl called out.

"It is me." Lucy Hanbrook's voice came from the other side of the door.

Sighing with relief, Karl put his dagger away and unlocked the door whilst Thomas made his pistol safe. Once the door was opened wide, the two men were surprised by the sight of Lucy being accompanied by the solemn-looking Heidi, Isabella's maid.

"Well, what have we here…?" Thomas gave another insolent smirk, which vanished as he saw Karl glaring at him.

"Vhy mistress sends her apologies for not being available. Instead, I have been permitted by vhy mistress to accompany Miss Hanbrook for a couple of days. To assist you," Heidi declared, in her stiff Germanic accent. She curtsied to the men.

"Assist us?" Karl smiled. "After last night, it seems that some of us have similar minds… Come on in." As he shut the door behind their unexpected guests, he spoke again. "How did you get here, Lucy?"

"We were dropped off by the old coachman, Joshua Carnaby, before he turned back to head to the manor. Madam von Took has hired his services," Lucy answered as she took the offered seat Thomas had been using earlier. "By good fortune, I was able to listen in on a meeting of the town elders without them knowing of my presence, this morning. My parents, and the other elders, are withholding information from Inspector Cooke, in the hope that the dark clouds are now dispersing – and that nothing more needs to be said..." She paused to gather her thoughts, as her fingers played with the strand of her attractive titian-colored hair that had draped itself on her cloaked shoulder. The image of her made Karl smile.

Lucy glanced at Heidi before she spoke again, keeping her tone formal in the presence of the handmaiden. "Mr Harrison, Mr Harrow… I will not pretend to understand what is happening in these parts. But I am certain that those…grotesques…, as they have been termed, are not the end of it! My intuition tells me that something evil is still in the area, and that more people – maybe many more - will die. I will _not_ stay at home and be idle. I've got to do something!"

Karl sat on the side of his bed once more, and nodded. He folded his arms.

"Anything that you tell us will be treated in confidence. Is that understood by everyone?"

Lucy, Thomas, and Heidi all assented. Then Lucy related her account, starting with her and Mr Danforth hiding under the table in the manor's library…

When she had told all that she could remember, Karl looked grim.

"We need more information about this…Shadow Witch… And we need to track down whatever has been turning those people into stone. And somehow stop it."

Heidi gasped. "Turned to stone…?"

"That's right, missy." This time Thomas did not smirk or smile. He turned his good eye to Karl. "Are we really taking these ladies with us?"

"I can fire a pistol," Heidi announced.

"And so can I. My knowledge of these parts will serve you, also," Lucy added, keeping her tone determined and her posture firm, as she had been tutored in the past by her governess for when she needed to assert herself.

"Good for you." Karl smiled. With his arms still folded, he returned Thomas's look. "I say that they come with us," he declared.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Victor Danforth sighed as he ran out of the tavern, silently cursing himself again for not keeping a sharper eye on his money. Having been obliged to leave the manor by Lady Hanbrook, despite his apology to Lucy for failing to protect her from that…winged horror, he had been dropped off back in town by the Hanbrook's coachman. After that, he had gone to his room at the tavern to drop off his traveling bag, before he had then gone to the bar in order to drown his sorrows in a fine wine.

Deciding to leave Shadowbrook, he had reached for his purse and count what he had left, ready to book an outbound coach – only to realize that his purse had gone. Alarmed, he whipped round – his frightened gaze sweeping around the half-crowded, dingy, smoke-laden room. He was rewarded with a glimpse of a smirk on the face of a certain, pretty, red-headed young woman.

"You again!" he spluttered, as the thief disappeared through the back door.

And now, chasing after her with as much haste as his stocky legs allowed, Victor entered the alley outside, ready to yell for assistance as soon as he saw any respectable-looking bystanders – only to found himself grabbed hold by a ruffian, who then held a dagger to his throat.

"Don't make any noise, mister," the tricorn hat-wearing thug growled.

"W-wouldn't d-dream of it!" Victor croaked as his eyes widened. His heart pounded. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down – the covering skin too close to that blade for his liking. "But you really don't need to threaten me, you scoundrel! Have you no shame at what you are doing…?"

The male thug clenched his teeth. "I said, shut it!"

The female thief, still wearing her own tricorn hat, red tunic, grey pants, and dark overcoat, reappeared and approached Victor. She glanced firstly at her associate.

"Easy, Bruno! Honor among thieves, remember? Mr Danforth is here to help us, after all. Aren't you, sir?" she asked.

"I am? Wh-what do y-you want of me? You already h-have my money!" Victor spluttered.

"Oh. That was just the lure. We'll look after your money for now, though." The lady thief gave the rotund playwright a wide smile. "You see, Mr Danforth. We need a hostage to get a friend out of the clink."

"The…clink? The nearby jail…? Oh…no. I say…!"

"We should just dump him off at the town hall – with a gag in his mouth," Bruno growled.

"Enough, Bruno! Mr Danforth will do as we ask, won't you?

Victor gulped. "Upon my honor…"

She grinned at the playwright. "Good! Then upon my honor, we'll have no need to hurt you, then," she declared.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The raid didn't take long. Victor realized that the outlaws had planned carefully. They struck around midday – only minutes after his abduction, and when the jailor was on his lunch break. With the aid of a dark-haired lad called Jack, who had been working as a spy within the jail, the outlaws soon convinced the two militia guards to drop their weapons, convinced that the female bandit was about to shoot the terrified Victor if they did not comply. After that, Bruno had ordered the pair of guards to unlock the cell where the Scarlet Shadow was held – before he clobbered them both on the heads with the butt of his pistol. With the guards locked in the cell, and the ring of keys slid underneath the jailor's desk, Victor then found himself handcuffed to the female outlaw by Bruno, with her palming the key. The party of five soon left the jail. Jack led the way across the street outside whilst the townsfolk hid from the shower of rain that had just commenced. Then Victor found himself forced to climb onto one of the horses held ready for them, as the female outlaw got on. He held onto her back. The thought then finally occurred to his frightened wits that no one was able to hold a pistol to his head at that moment…

"Help! I'm being abducted!" he yelled.

Katarina quickly stretched one hand back to slap the side of his face. "Behave!" she scolded him.

"Stop! It's the Shadow! He's escaping!" a nearby militia guard bellowed.

As the guard raised the alarm, the outlaws kicked into the sides of their horses. The Scarlet Shadow, missing his hat and silk scarf, took the lead and his horse bolted – helping him to just miss the shot fired by the guard. Next were Victor and his lady kidnapper. Then Bruno – with Jack clinging to his back. They charged along the street – with the horses being urged to tear along the streets first one way, then another, in order to confuse their pursuers as to which direction they were going.

Victor was not brave enough to try anything further. He closed his eyes and held them tightly shut, hearing the pounding of their horses, the cries of the startled townsfolk, and the pattering of the falling rain as they pounded on. Then, before long, the voices ceased. Victor dared to open his eyes again.

Shadowbrook had vanished from sight. They were now galloping along a road leading through the countryside, with a stretch of woods on either side of them. Mindful enough to look for the sun, Victor saw it dimly behind the thinning clouds in front of him – roughly at the ten 'o clock position.

They were heading to the south-west, then. What in blaze's name lay in this direction?

The answer was soon apparent. Emerging from the gloomy group of trees that encircled it, was a tower. A crumbling, stone tower. And as they arrived at their destination, Victor saw that the tower was just one corner of an old fortress that must have been a military outpost at some point in its history, before being abandoned. Now, it was evidently the base of these outlaws.

Leaving the road, the criminals slowed their horses to a walk as they navigated into the woods, where the ground was harder. Then they stopped. The Scarlet Shadow cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a bird-like cry. So too did the lady outlaw. They waited, and then repeated their signal.

After a long pause, another pair of similar calls responded. Two more ruffians emerged from the depths of the woods – a man and a woman. They greeted the mounted outlaws with delight.

"You did it! Good on yer, Katarina!" the second woman shrieked.

" 'Course I did it, Jasmine. Now take our horses back onto the road. Make it look that we headed across the marsh and towards the crossroads. Bruno – you stay on your horse," Victor's kidnapper retorted. "We'll see ya back at the camp."

Jasmine, Bruno, and the other male outlaw nodded.

Meanwhile, Jack, and the Shadow jumped down from their panting horses - and Victor was obliged to hop down with his female captor, Katarina. With Bruno and the other two gang members now on the horses and leading them back to the road, in order to leave a misleading trail of hoof prints as the rain shower ceased, a wet Victor Danforth shivered.

"Don't worry, matey. We'll soon be around a good fire." Katarina smirked. Then she turned to the criminal known to Victor only as the Scarlet Shadow.

"Thank you for breaking me out, you wonderful girl…," the highwayman walked over to Katarina and embraced her as they shared a long, passionate kiss.

Victor coughed and looked down at the leaf-covered ground, feeling like he was stuck on stage with an embarrassing ham actor. Oh, if only he had stayed in his room…

Finally, the Scarlet Shadow and Katarina broke apart. The highwayman narrowed his eyes at Victor.

"What about him?" he asked.

"Mr Danforth is coming with us. I reckon he can help us about…Sloan," Katarina announced, her face suddenly grave. She yanked on the handcuffs that still held her to the playwright. "C'mon, tubby."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "I say…!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Abandoned Keep:**

A few minutes later, they had emerged from the woods and arrived at the ruined fortress. Vegetation had overtaken parts of the crumbling walls, and the water was still dipping from the rain shower in places, adding to the pool that had formed in one corner of what had been the courtyard. Despite his fears over whatever they had planned for him, Victor tried to distract himself from his anxieties by taking in as much detail of the place as he could. The fortress was sizable – with some parts in better kept condition than others. His captors took him through one of the doors leading off from the courtyard, where the corridor beyond led to a set of rooms. In one of them, apparently once the fort's kitchen, Victor gratefully warmed himself – and the damp clothes on him – against the heat of the small camp fire. Apart from daylight from the courtyard, there was no other light source. Their lanterns, on the floor in one corner were unlit.

Katarina fished out the tiny key and unlocked the handcuffs from herself and Victor. He ruefully rubbed his wrist in order to get his blood circulation back to normal.

Minutes later, the four of them were sat down on the floor. The resident cook, a burly man named Kelner, prepared a celebratory meal for them and the other half-dozen outlaws who joined them. A skinned rabbit and hard biscuits – washed down with ale, no less.

As he finished his meal and wiped his fingers on a rag supplied to him, Victor frowned. He turned to address Katarina and her lover.

"If you… If you are not going to kill me, what do you want with me? I have heard of you! You are the Scarlet Shadow! You have been a blight upon this state – robbing good folk and leaving them afraid for their lives! They say that you have killed many decent men…"

"None of them were decent, Mr Danforth," the dark-haired leader spoke in a clear voice. He too wiped his hands, as he straightened himself against the wall behind him.

"Wh-what…?"

"The men who I have killed all deserved to die. They were corrupt, or aiding something worse than them. Considering your appearance, sir, I imagine that you walk along the wealthier circles in one of the nearby cities?"

"Why, yes. I live in New York itself, where I have walked the boards of the theatres, and wrote…"

"Then anything you have heard about me has been via the authorities, or the local newspapers. Yes?"

"Umm… That would be so, sir," Victor conceded.

"Ask many of the local townsfolk and countrymen around here how they regard the Scarlet Shadow, and you will get a more accurate picture, Mr Danforth," the youth Jack spoke up. "I own my life to the boss here – when he saved me, over a year ago, from the living trees that were animated by the creature that was called the Delion Dryad."

"Er… The _what_!?"

"Long story. What you should know is that I was once part of a family who had their property taken from them by an unscrupulous landowner. That led me to take up the life of a highwayman – a highwayman who only robs the rich, and who looks out for the poorer people," the Shadow declared. "Then, over a year ago, an unnatural creature known as the Delion Dryad caused havoc in these parts. A suspected witch, Elaine Bartlett – who had been captured by the militia – was tasked by the elders of Shadowbrook to end the scourge of the Dryad. Which she did. Apparently, the elders had made a deal with Bartlett – and she was to be freed from captivity for her 'services to the community'. But she had already been accused of many crimes against livestock and people. And against nature itself. Crimes which had led to her arrest in the first place – including the murder by witchcraft of her husband."

"Bartlett…," Victor tapped the tip of his finger against his bearded chin. "I recall reading of this. The Shadow Witch, they called her. Around the end of October, last year… It's almost the first anniversary of…"

"…her hanging, Mr Danforth," Katarina finished for him. "The elders of Shadowbrook felt obliged to obey the cries for justice from the families who had suffered from the dark magic of Bartlett. The Shadow Witch was hung. But on the scaffold, she vowed to return on the anniversary of her death – and wreck vengeance on the elders and on the locals. And lately, people and animals are being torn apart – as if by some ungodly predator. Whilst some other people…" Katarina paused and looked at the Shadow.

He nodded his approval, and stood. "Mr Danforth… Come with me and Katarina," he requested.

Feeling somewhat better for the meal and the fact that they had not threatened him since their flight from Shadowbrook, Victor was nevertheless still suspicious as he accompanied the pair of outlaws back into the courtyard and then up a broken staircase. Katarina carefully led the way past the crumbling part of the steps – and Victor gulped with relief as he managed to follow in her footsteps without mishap, whilst the Shadow hung behind, ready to grab the playwright if he lost his balance.

Reaching the ramparts that once ran intact along the whole circumference of the keep, they turned left and entered a broken, derelict tower. It was dawning upon Victor that the side of the keep that was nearest to the road, and facing Shadowbrook, was generally in poorer condition than the more intact, and hidden, parts.

Within the shell of the tower, Katarina and the Shadow stopped. Halting with them, Victor gasped as he spied the husk of a man, still dressed in his clothes. Close by was the detailed, life-sized statue of a bearded man, who was depicted in a fashion similar to his 'hosts' – complete with a tricorn hat and clothes made of stone. The man was portrayed as being on his knees, screaming, one arm raised as if to defend himself from something in the air above him – whilst the hand of his other arm gripped a metal dagger…

That last detail was not lost upon Victor. He sucked in his breath, and stepped forward to examine the metal blade. Yes, the stony hand was wrapped around the weapon. Tentatively, he grabbed hold of the rock-hard fist with one of his own hands and tried to yank the blade out with his other. It was impossible to do so.

Then how did it get there…?

Victor stopped and staggered back. The Scarlet Shadow grabbed hold of the larger man, supporting him.

"I see you had the same idea as us, good sir," said Katarina. Her smile faded as she regarded the husk and the statue. "Me and a pair of the lads came as quick as we could, after we were woken up by the cries of our two night sentries. By the time we arrived, it was too late. We lost a pair of good men…"

"My god…" Victor fought to control both his panic and his pounding heart, as he swallowed repeatedly. He nervously ran a hand through his thinning mop of brown hair. "That husk…was a man? That statue _was_ a man, as well?"

"Indeed. That statue you see now was a fierce fighter called Sloan," replied the Shadow. He eased Victor against the nearest wall. "You are a learned man, Mr Danforth. What manner of creature could have done this?"

"Po-possibly the same…creatures that I saw last night, at the manor…," Victor hazarded.

"What creatures? I heard a commotion outside, which caught everyone's attention. But I used the opportunity to slip away," Katarina declared.

"You…were at…the manor, Miss Katarina?"

"Yes. Now…these creatures!" she snapped.

Victor told them about his encounter with the winged being that Lady Hanbrook had described as 'Grotesque'. He left out the bit about accidently abandoning Lucy Hanbrook to the danger, of course…

When Victor had finished his account, the Shadow and Katarina looked at each other for a long moment.

"Jack has told me that he's heard on the rumor mill going round that other 'lifelike' statues have been turning up. At the olde woods, and at the windmill." Katarina snorted. "That Inspector Cooke from Boston is out of his depth. Until he realizes that he's dealing with something unnatural, more innocent people around here are going to get killed, Darcius."

"Where did those creatures come from? Do they have anything to do with the Shadow Witch's devilry?" the Scarlet Shadow muttered. "We have to act! We'll investigate the olde woods first." He turned to Victor. "You might as well come with us, Mr Playwright!"

"M-me?" Victor gulped. His hand instinctively gripped his rosary and the crucifix hanging from the cords around his neck. "But I'm…no use to you! I'm…"

He trailed off, as the Shadow fingered his religious belongings.

"I see that you are a Catholic man of good faith…," he declared.

"Um… Well, yes I am. But I'm also a coward! I'm no fighter either. And I will not help you under duress! You've already threatened me with your pistol, young lady!"

"Oh, that…" Katarina told out her pistol from its holster, and opened it. "Look inside, Mr Danforth."

He did so, and his eyes widened. "You mean you held me hostage…with a pistol that held…no bullets!?"

Katarina smiled. "Like my partner, here, I do not kill innocent people, Mr Danforth. And on my honor, no one else in our gang will – as we forbid it! We are not the blackhearts some people would have you believe."

"Oh. That's…reassuring." Victor wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "But why do you want me to come with you…?"

"There are more ways to ward off evil and monsters than through weapons, Mr Danforth. I sense that your faith may come in handy. When we get to the woods, we will see if it is safe to allow you to return to town by yourself. And besides…" the Shadow trailed off, as Jack appeared besides him to give him a red silk mask, which the outlaw promptly placed over his mouth.

"…desperate times call for drastic deeds!" the Scarlet Shadow declared with a flourish, as he pointed his pistol upright.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Lair:**

The elder descended the steps and paused, checking again that no one had followed – before opening the door, and closing it once inside the space beyond.

It was cold. Folding the arms to cover the hands, the elder hissed with impatience – not wishing to wait for their eyesight to adjust to the gloom.

"Are you here!?"

There was silence for a long moment. Then the inhuman voice came, penetrating the elder's mind.

" _Why Do You Disturb Me Now…?"_

"Two of your…children…attacked people at the Manor! They have been killed, and the bodies held for further inspection! That Inspector has been persuaded that they were responsible for all of the attacks around this township – but he has not yet left the area. Our work was never intended to become so brazen…!"

" _My Creatures Had To Feed. Anyone Who They Kill Is Of The Guilty… We Have Agreed That."_

"And what was young Lucy Hanbrook guilty of!? She was attacked – but was defended by others…" Seeing the faint glow of the being present, the elder took several steps towards the centre of the room. Towards _it_. "The actions of you, and your creatures, are attracting too much attention! I have carefully been watching two newcomers to the town. I sense that they are hunters. If they become pawns of your enemies…"

An unearthly hiss resounded. The elder felt the cold air shift. The being was flexing its wings in its agitation. _"They Will Be Dealt With! Describe Them To Me…"_

The elder did so.

" _You Have Done Well. Now…, Leave Me,"_ the creature rasped.

Knowing better than to argue, the elder walked backwards towards the exit – not wanting to turn their back towards the being. It was partly out of reverence – and partly out of fear of being clawed from behind. The creature had an unnerving rage to it, and it could be unpredictable…

Moments later, the door shut to, leaving the room in complete darkness – a darkness that was of no hindrance to its occupant.

The winged being brooded in silence for a few moments, as it contemplated its plan of action. It was growing in strength now. It would concentrate upon its connections with its servants-in-waiting. And when the interfering humans passed close to one of them, the creature itself would leave its lair and turn the hunters into the hunted. After they had been dealt with, it would be time to manifest the full extent of its growing army.

" _This Town Will Become Mine…!"_ the being hissed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

 **Voices Of The Dark**

 **The Manor:**

In the front drive before the house the carts were loaded with the bodies of the monstrous winged creatures that Inspector Jonathan Cooke, along with everyone else, were now automatically referring to as the 'Grotesques'. Thankful that there had been enough dead foliage, provided by the wiry-looking Grounds Keeper, to cover the bodies from view, Cooke saw Sergeant Allardyce take up a seat besides the militiaman who was about to crack the whip to get the tethered horse pulling on the first cart. The Inspector himself, satisfied that everything had been cleared up, started to climb onto the second of the two carts.

"Wait, Inspector!" a sharp female voice cried out.

Startled, he turned to see the raven-haired Isabella von Took, followed by another woman who he recognized from the party last night. He noticed that the ladies were both dressed in their travel gear – but that there were no servants in sight with their luggage.

"Yes, Madam von Took? And…sorry…we have not been introduced." Cooke stepped back onto the graveled drive and bowed to the second lady.

"Je suis Mademoiselle Anne Marie Piaget…," the nervous-looking brunette cleared her throat. "I am…one of the school teachers in Shadowbrook."

 _What a charming accent…_ Cooke smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Piaget. How can I assist you ladies?"

"By enlightening us as to a few facts, if that is acceptable to you, Inspector." Isabella regarded Cooke with her pale gray eyes. "What is going to happen to those…things?"

"The sergeant and I are taking them back to Boston for examination. They appear to be a previously-unknown life form," Cooke replied. "We will carry out tests – including…." He trailed off. "Well, that is not for ladies to hear…"

"Including cutting open the stomach and innards to check that these beings have indeed being eating the animals and citizens of this township?" Isabella prompted him.

Cooke and Allardyce exchanged a surprised glance. "Madam von Took! I did not want to say…" He hesitated before her withering glare. "Very well… You are correct. Still, I believe that we have now eliminated the culprits to the recent tragic deaths. However, I have advised the town elders to maintain the militia – in case of further incidents…"

"Such as the study wall that oozed blood. And the cat that Lady Hanbrook was so frightened by?" Isabella suggested.

Cooke noticed the lack of surprise on Anne Marie's face. The teacher nodded.

"Isabella here has told me of…these strange events, Inspector," she confessed.

"They were superstitious tricks, Madam," Cooke responded, keeping his voice – and his stirring temper - even.

"I think not, Inspector. I suggest that further investigation is required," the noblewoman retorted. "If you and the good sergeant are not prepared to do it, then Mademoiselle Piaget and I will do so instead. We have the time, as there is no school today, on this Saturday. Between us, we have some money to buy resources. And I have a nose for following trouble. Also, there are others already on the scent, Inspector…"

He frowned. "Such as who?"

"A certain Mr Harrison and his accomplice, Mr Harrow."

"The ex-soldier and the courier. I see…" Cooke rubbed the point of his neatly-trimmed beard. "Well, maybe the sergeant and I need to keeping watch on them…"

The Inspector was interrupted by a horseman galloping up towards them from the nearby road. They all looked across to him.

"Captain Townsend! What brings you here?" Cooke asked him.

"The Scarlet Shadow!" the captain spat. "He was broken out of the jail! He's fled the town, along with others of his gang. They had a civilian hostage – an overweight man with a short goatee beard and a bald head. Had fine clothes…"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Anne Marie. "Mon dieu…! That description… Monsieur Danforth?"

"The playwright from last night?" Cooke narrowed his eyes. "Sergeant Allardyce…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Change of plan! Take these two carts to the warehouse of Mr Morgan. I understand that he went back home last night. Get him to look after them. Tell him that we will pay him handsomely. Then assist Captain Townsend and his men in recapturing the Scarlet Shadow! I need… I need to assist these ladies in another matter."

"Yessir!" the sergeant barked. He nodded to the driver of the first cart. The whip cracked and the cart headed off. Cooke, Isabella and Anne Marie moved aside to the side of the court fountain as the second cart followed its twin onto the road towards town.

Isabella gave a languid smile. "Well then, Inspector. I take it that you are coming with us?"

Cooke took a deep breath before releasing it. "You are a headstrong woman, Madam von Took. I do not believe that you will listen to reason when I say that this is work for men – so I should accompany you…"

"Excellent, Inspector! Perhaps you should also know that Miss Lucy is with the men," Isabella purred. "She too must be a headstrong woman. Honestly, she has just become of age – and already she's eager to leave the constraints of home…"

"What!? She's with Harrison and Harrow?" Cooke was startled. "How do you know of this, Madam von Took?"

"Because I happen to have excellent hearing, and I overheard Miss Lucy tell Selena after breakfast that she intended to see her friend, Mr Harrison – with the aim of investigating the scenes of the crimes and find out what is really going on. I then took the foresight to instruct my maid, Heidi, to escort Miss Lucy on her journey to Shadowbrook. You see, Heidi will act as my spy – _our_ spy, if you like. She will report back to us, and tell us what Lucy and the two men discover."

"In the meantime, we should get going whilst the light is good, non?" Anne Marie suggested, managing a smile. "We can be _your_ back-up, Inspector!"

"I will alert the coachman to prepare his coach…," Isabella added, sealing the arrangement. She started to walk over to the servants' quarters within the manor.

"The coachman? He is here?"

"Oh, yes. I have hired his services for today, when he arrived to collect some of the guests from the manor, last night… So, you see, we don't even need to walk very far. And, this way, we will travel quickly."

Inspector Cooke huffed, but then relented. "Very well! But I will be in charge of this…grouping. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Inspector." Isabella paused in the courtyard, the ghost of a smile upon her lips. She inclined her head in his direction. "Where do you suggest we start our investigation?"

He thought about that, before replying. "The fields nearby. It was reported to me, by a farmhand, that there was an attack at Major Bruckner's estate, during the night before last…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Abandoned Keep:**

Victor Danforth's head was reeling as he strode along the far end of the courtyard, taking the passageway that he had been told led to the latrine. 'Darcius', or the man who the authorities had labeled 'The Scarlet Shadow' had told him that they would be setting out for the olde woods as soon as possible. Despite the militia hunting for him, it would be better for Victor and the outlaws to travel during the day. The countryside around Shadowbrook was becoming a dangerous place to be at night – and both the Shadow and Katarina were worried that it would soon be dangerous even during the day, also.

When Victor asked his captors why they needed him to reach the olde woods, they had not exactly been forthcoming. "In the first place, you'll help us to cross the marsh," Katarina had replied, smirking.

The thought of traversing a marsh did not fill Victor's thoughts with good cheer. Since he was a stranger to these parts, whereas they were locals, why did…?

Victor sighed. He was not sure that he was going to like the answer. And too much worrying was bad for his nerves. Yes indeed.

The playwright paused along the corridor, using the lantern he had been given to guide him along the dark corridor. He had been warned about the cracks in the ground here…

Pressing his back to the wall on the safe side, he gingerly edged around the cracks – his buckled shoes making dainty side-shuffles as he tried not to whimper.

Breathing a sigh of relief at successfully passing the obstacle, his next challenge was to tolerate the smell and the basic hygiene of the latrine…

Minutes later, he had done his business and quickly wiped his hands on the provided grimy rag. Victor used his free hand to squeeze his nostrils, whilst his other hand carried the lantern once more.

A piercing cry startled him. Spinning round, Victor dropped the lantern and clutched at his chest, gasping. He spied a crow walking along the corridor at the threshold to the courtyard. Glaring at him with black eyes as it turned its head slightly, the bird shook its dark wings and then took flight.

He grumbled, and sank to his knees in order to retrieve the lantern – which was now on its side. He reached forward…

 _Crack. Crack. Crack-crack-crack…_

"Oh! Holy mother!" Victor managed to utter – in the instant before the rocky floor collapsed underneath him.

 _"Yaaaggghhh….!"_

He toppled forward into the widening gap – the lantern falling with him. The fear of striking his head against something gripped his heart, but Victor found himself fortunate enough to roll at an angle, and land on his back. Something crunched, though. Several somethings.

"Ooohhh… I hope that wasn't…my body breaking!" he moaned. Then as his vision stopped swimming and his heart rate slowed down towards normal again, Victor tried to sit up – only for his hand to brush against…

The lantern was on its side – but its flickering light enabled him to see, as he forced himself upright, the carpet of broken bones and skulls that littered the chamber he had found himself in.

The outlaws soon found Victor. His screaming had rung out across the whole keep.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

" 'Tis a sign of the Dark Omen," Katarina muttered when two of the male outlaws eventually managed to haul Victor back up to the corridor with a dropped rope that he had shakily tied around his waist. The lantern came up too – and so the chamber was plunged back into darkness, even as the rope was removed from Victor. The Scarlet Shadow had asked him if he had spied any other exits from the chamber – to which the agitated Victor had suggested that the outlaw could drop down himself if he really wanted to know the answer.

"I saw the bones, sir. That was enough to take in!" Victor had shrieked.

The Shadow squatted down besides Victor, and laid his hand firmly upon the playwright's shoulder.

"Calm yourself, man! Get out your rosary and pray. Your accident was unfortunate – but you are safe with us."

"Safe…!? Does that mean I am free to go _now_? Or am I really a hostage until the moment you decide that you do not need me anymore?"

The Shadow sighed. "For now, you need to stay with me, Katarina, and Jack. For your safety as much as ours. We have need for a man of faith. So, have some faith in yourself – as well as your god!"

Victor stared back at the younger man's stern, but earnest face as he took out his rosary and fingered it. Gradually, he calmed down. "Who are you…?" he asked. "Why have you and your fellows adopted this rough life?"

The Shadow gave a mirthless laugh. "My people all have their reasons, sir. Even in this young nation of ours in the New World, there are many people who have poverty thrushed upon them through no fault of their own. Some of them have known it since birth. And yet, Reverend Harding of Shadowbrook would tell you that the poor are poor because of the whim of God, punishing those who have sinned in a previous life. Ha! Where is the proof…? I have watched him from afar. The man tries to hide the fact that he has a tendency to drink…! And Magistrate Kroft – who smiles to all and sundry, and runs the local militia with zeal. He isn't brave enough to leave his fine house and chase after me… Oh yes, the elders of Shadowbrook all have their secrets. We just haven't reached the bottom of the murky barrel yet…"

"The quality of your clothes, sir. Yes, they bare dirt and dust – but I recognize the tailorship…" Victor ventured. "They are either stolen – or you have come from a comfortable background!"

The Shadow looked startled for a moment. Then he laughed. "Well reasoned, sir. I am Darcius Redfern. My family, the Redferns, are wealthy landowners in another State – but I grew to despise the way my father treated the servants…and the slaves. To keep the story short, father did not approve when he found out I had a hand in freeing two of the slaves my family had abused – and so after an argument that resulted in violence, I was obliged to flee the house with my belongings and with the money that I deemed was my due property. In running away, I was fortunate to come across, and rescue, other unfortunates who had been mistreated by their families or circumstances – the lovely Katarina being the first…"

"She is charming…," Victor ruefully admitted. "…once you get past her tendency for pushing people over, and pressing pistols against one's head."

"Katarina can be rough – but she is nimble, quick, and deadly with weapons." The Shadow smiled broadly. "She is also a passionate woman – and I love her dearly…"

He was interrupted by a female yell from the corridor next to them. The men quickly got to their feet.

"Katarina?!"

The Scarlet Shadow ran back to the lip of the hole in the derelict corridor. Victor caught up with him, and started down into the secret chamber that was a charnel house of bones. Katarina had got Jack the servant boy to hold onto the top of the rope, whilst she had climbed down. In the light of the lantern lying next to the worried Jack, Victor saw that the cheeky lady outlaw had collapsed on the carpet of bones. Furthermore, she was shaking. One hand was clenched around a broken small mirror that Katarina had evidently scavenged from the pile of dirty, dusty clothes that Victor had failed to notice earlier.

"Katarina! What are you doing? What is wrong?" her lover shouted.

"She wanted to check out the exits from that chamber, boss," Jack started. "Then she rummaged through the clothes…"

"Visions… Visions in the mirror…," said Katarina, her voice a frightened whisper. Her gaze was still fixated on the fractured glass. "Death from above… Darkness coming to Shadowbrook…, and all around it… People being turned… Two beings of power – fighting for control of the town… Two armies. Death. Destruction. Fire… _NO!_ " She dropped the mirror and bolted upright, before she cast a frightened glare around her. Then she grabbed hold of the rope and tried to climb it. "Get me up!" she cried.

The Shadow nodded at Victor and Jack. Using their combined efforts, they soon managed to pull Katarina back up to them – and she collapsed into her partner in crime's arms.

"Horrible! It was _horrible_ , Darcius… Hold me…," she sobbed.

He did so. The four of them remained there for some minutes.

"What…did you see, Katarina?" the Shadow asked, as he wiped away her drying tears with his fingers.

"Too many things…" She swallowed back the bile in her throat. "Flashes of different images. All terrible things. I couldn't take them all in. I want to _forget_ them!"

"You must _not_ forget them, Katarina!" Victor insisted. "They could be warnings from a godly source…"

"…or be the illusions sent by a being that laughs at our distress," the Shadow retorted, locking his gaze with Victor's. He removed Katarina's hat and lovingly stroked her red hair. The repeated motion helped to calm her – and she rose a minute later. The others got to their feet also.

"Katarina…," the Shadow ventured. "Are you wel-?"

"We have to move, Darcius. _Now!_ I think…I think I was shown possible futures…," Katarina muttered. " _She_ was one of the…beings of power that I glimpsed. The Shadow Witch. She has been biding her time, building up her strength. Soon, she will set her plans into motion!"

The Shadow narrowed his eyes. "And the other…being?"

"I do not know… I glimpsed it – it was not human. Not even a ghost… It…was the thing that killed our two friends in the tower!"

"Well… Let's go after it – or _her_ ," Jack suggested.

Victor gulped. What was he getting dragged into now…?

The leader of the outlaws nodded sagely. "Let's scarper!"

When they re-entered the courtyard, the Shadow ordered the door to the derelict corridor to be shut and bolted. They would have to find somewhere else for their new latrine from that moment on…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Karl Harrison allowed himself to smile a little. Lucy Hanbrook was holding on tightly to him – her arms encircling his chest, as his faithful Euros kept up a brisk pace – keeping up with the brown-furred younger horse, Boreas, upon which Thomas Harrow was likewise being firmly held by his horseback passenger, the handmaiden Heidi.

It had been years since he and Lucy had ridden together like they were doing so at that moment. And Karl was aware that something had changed since then. Lucy not only felt warm against his back, she also felt good, in a way that stirred deeper feelings inside of him…

Karl shook his head, dismissing the thought. He couldn't take their friendship to a higher level. He was still not on the best of terms with Lady Hanbrook – and if either her or his lordship knew that Lucy was with them now, riding into possible danger…

After their visit to the Blacksmith, who Lucy had advised Karl and Thomas to visit for supplies, the four of them had ridden northeast from Shadowbrook – making good progress along the road. Before long, they dismounted at the windmill. With some long rope, Karl and Thomas tied their horses to the branches of a clump of nearby trees that provided some shelter from the damp breeze that had lingered after the earlier rain.

The group looked around. There was no sign of activity as the nearby house that was the miller's, and there was nobody else in sight. The militia had gone. Whilst they had been gathering equipment at the forge, the Blacksmith himself - Hector Dalton – had told Karl, Thomas, Lucy, and Heidi that half of the militia had been sent out into the countryside around the town, to recapture the Scarlet Shadow, who had been sprung. Apparently, a hostage had been taken by the outlaws too.

Walking up to the statue of the woman that was still on the ground, close to the doors of the windmill, Lucy gave a gasp as she took in the terrified and agonized expression on the rigid face. Karl laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I told you that you might be shocked by what was here…," he reminded her.

"But you did not tell me what you meant…" Lucy's gloved hand brushed the face of the statue. "Such detail…," she muttered, then her eyes widened further. She stepped back, and her face snapped to face Karl. "It… It isn't just a statue, is it? It _is_ Miss Palfreyman, our cook… Turned to stone…!"

"Yes," he confessed. "But I wanted to hear that from your lips, without me leading you to that conclusion.

"Dear lord…! How is this possible?"

"That's what we're here to find out, Miss Lucy," Thomas huffed.

"So… From vat you were saying earlier, a soldier was turned into a husk here… But his body is not here now," Heidi pointed out.

"That Inspector would've ordered it to be removed back to town. But as for this beauty…," Thomas crouched down besides the statue and tried to move it. "…she's too heavy. Thought so!"

"The militia have not even bothered to cover her up. The poor woman." Lucy knelt down and took a few breaths to steady herself. She began to pray for Miss Palfreyman's soul – and Karl and Heidi joined her. After a glare from Karl, Thomas sighed and also got onto his knees to join his hands. His spirit was not in it, though.

When they were done, Karl gestured to the grain windmill. It was, he had learned from Lucy in the past, modeled after another one built about a century and a half ago, in Buckinghamshire, in the old country. The miller, Mr Forbes, still had connections to his farming relations there.

"Got your skeleton keys, Thomas?" he asked.

"Course I 'ave." Thomas grinned, showing his less-than-perfect set of teeth, as he produced the keys from one of his pockets. He got to work – and the four of them were soon inside the windmill, with the doors shut behind them as they stepped onto the stone floor of the structure. Although the windows were few, and small, there was enough light for them to see their surroundings. The smells of straw, grain, and old machinery filled the interior. A wooden ladder at one side of the ground floor led up to the next level, the bin floor.

Thomas signaled for the group to stay quiet. They took in the silence.

"Right. No one here but us chickens…," Thomas sniggered.

"B-but…we are trespassing!" Lucy wailed.

"That is a small part of a monster-hunter's life, Lucy," declared Karl with a wry smile. "We do what we must, to get answers. And what we come up against generally has no regard for human lives, let alone the rule book on human conduct."

"Of course, you must think me foolish…" Lucy bowed her head.

"I do not think that." Karl gave her hand a quick squeeze. That made her look back up and smile.

"Vat do you wish us to do?" Heidi pressed the men.

"Look around for anything that might be out of place. Or anything that could be of interest," Thomas instructed them. He nodded to Karl. "I'll head to the top – see if there's anything on the roof."

"Good thinking." Karl turned to the ladies. "We had better take a floor each – that way we'll make this quick. What level would you each prefer?"

"I want to be on the next floor to you, Karl," Lucy decided. "In case of any trouble."

Heidi creased her round face in thought. "Perhaps you should vatch the doors here, Karl," she suggested. "Vherefore, Miss Lucy takes the next floor up, and I vill search the one above vat."

Lucy and Karl agreed. And so all four of them got to work.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Thomas headed to the dust floor, along with Heidi, climbing the various ladders on the way. In places, the floorboards creaked as he edged his way past the inert machinery and sacks of grain lying around. Despite the day being dull and lacking enough wind for the windmill to in use, he wondered why the place looked like it had not been in recent use…

Leaving Heidi to rummage around one side, Thomas headed over to the other. A search here turned up a rusty key hanging on an iron hook, hanging from one of the low beams. Thomas pocketed it – then climbed the final ladder, to open up the bolted hatch to the domed roof, which he got to work on.

Outside, walking his footing carefully as he stepped across and grabbed hold of the nearest sail, Thomas raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the whistling wind as he slowly turned around to survey the surrounding countryside.

 _Sure is interesting to see the land like this…_ , he thought. There was not much to see to the north. A range of hills – beyond which lay a few villages, many miles away. To the west, close by, the fields of Shadowbrook – and just beyond them, the manor. To the south west was Shadowbrook itself, with the church tower and the town hall being the most distinctive buildings. The Doctor's office and the Magistrate's office were also visible. Beyond the town, Thomas's keen eye could just sight the crumbling tower of the fortress that had been abandoned years ago by the local military, who relocated to Tidewater. South of him was the ever-flowing, cold-looking River Shadow which passed underneath the covered bridge before skirting the edge of the olde woods. And not far away to the east, surrounding by moorland, Thomas could spy the upper part of the inn that overlooked Echo Lake.

Apart from the livestock in their fields and pens, there was not much evidence of animal life around. Thomas was reminded of Karl's observation about the absence of the birds. It felt…unnerving. The land seemed bleak, and under a shadow greater than the gray, murky clouds and sky that hung over everything.

Taking out the miniature telescope that he had…acquired…from a sailor, Thomas carefully shifted his weight where he was lodged, so he could extend the tube. He took a long look around, focusing his attention on the milling people around Shadowbrook – then panned around to…

 _Waitaminute!_

Thomas moved back to where he had just been passing by with the scope. He refocused. Sure enough, there were only some of the figures there. One was missing…

The sailboard began to lurch from his tilted weight. The wind started to pick up. Cold. Biting.

Feeling his heart pounding as he steadied himself, Thomas slammed the scope shut and pocketed it, before heading back down and seeing to the roof hatch behind him. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, wondering about the significance of what he had learnt…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Apart from a locked trapdoor set to one side of the dimly-lit stone floor, Karl found nothing of interest. Straightening up, he ascended to the next level above.

Amidst the metal drive wheel, drive belts, wooden barriers, grain sacks and hardware clutter, Lucy was nowhere to be found around the bin floor. Then he spotted her travelling cloak lying on the shelf of the nearest window. As he headed over to it, he heard someone walking around, as if on tip-toes.

"Lucy?" he called out softly. No reply came.

Experience and instinct made him pull out his knife. Karl moved like a cat around the barriers that surrounded the central drive wheel of the windmill, to confront the other presence, who was partially hidden in the shadows, and now emerging – with a pistol in one hand…

"Ohhh…you startled me!" Lucy exclaimed as she spied Karl.

He sighed from both annoyance and relief. Putting his knife away, Karl nodded to the weapon that Lucy had found. "If you're going to sneak around with that thing, you should at least cock it!"

"Sorry… It was amongst the milling equipment. Loaded too. I don't understand why it would be left here like that," Lucy explained.

"That is somewhat strange," Karl admitted. "Where is the owner of it? Why does this place feel as though no one has been here for hours?"

The chomping of footsteps on the ladder distracted them. Turning, Karl and Lucy saw Thomas approach them.

"Find anything of interest, Thomas?" Karl asked him.

The short, scared man shrugged. "Not sure. Here's a rusty ol' key from the top floor. Not found a lock for it up there." He held the key in-between his fingers.

Karl took it from him and rubbed his bearded jawline. "Hmm… I wonder."

"It is midday. We should be moving on. We are, after all, trespassing…, " Lucy trailed off as she heard a noise at the window. Her eyes widened. "It is raining! Heavily."

"Darnit…," Thomas cursed. "We'll have to stay put! I'll fetch us some food and drink. The provisions are still on the horses."

"I will help you." Karl put the key down onto the window ledge, and followed Thomas downstairs to the double doors that led into the storm outside.

As they headed out, Lucy followed them down. At Karl's urging, she shut the doors to behind them – but left them unbolted, whilst the men tried to sprint towards the horses, only to struggle against the wind that had sprung up. Then she heard the whispering.

"Heidi…?" Lucy spun round – but the handmaiden was nowhere to be seen. She had to be somewhere above.

Frowning, Lucy tried to make out the words. The wind, however, hindered her. It was not a single voice. Rather, there were several of them – and they were coming from…

Her apprehensive gaze fell upon the trapdoor in the corner. Something came over Lucy, and she walked towards it as if sleepwalking – the rusty key she had picked up now fitting neatly into the lock, as she turned it…

The double flaps of the trapdoor shot open, as if something had slammed into them with force from below. Lucy jumped.

The whispering voices became louder. They were chattering, babbling, talking in some tongue that Lucy did not recognize. Not any of the languages that she had been taught as a growing child. The language of the natives of this land? But some instinct in her told her no. That the speech that was assailing her ears was of a language far older – and darker.

"Wh-? Who are you? Identify yourselves!" she called down as she peered into the darkness. Her heart _thump-thump_ 'ed with growing fear. They didn't have a lantern with them…

The chattering continued, growing louder. As if a veil had been lifted, the voices started to make sense. They were speaking in English now – or so it seemed to Lucy, as the words reached her mind.

 _"Help us…"_

 _"Come closer…Lucy …"_

 _"So lonely as a child, Lucy Hanbrook … Join us."_

 _"Never be alone, again… Come down, and be loved…"_

Lucy felt her mind become detached from her body. Numbly, and without feeling, she saw herself step down beyond the trapdoor, her feet finding the stone steps that were present. The only light guiding her was the muted sunlight from the stone floor level of the windmill behind her.

At the bottom of the steps was a lantern, lying on its side. It was still lit – but even as she picked it up it failed to penetrate the black void that filled the basement…

 _"Welcome, Lucy…"_

 _"Join us…"_

 _"Be with us…forever."_

"Be with you… Always… Be something more than I am now… Yes," Lucy muttered, smiling, as she pushed onwards into the dark. Images were flickering across her mind. Caresses. Kisses… A belonging with the darkness. To be a part of the force that was preparing itself. Making its plans to come to the surface, to hunt, to grow, to…

"Lucy!?" Karl's voice startled her.

 _"No! Give yourself to us…," the first voice hissed._

 _"Rule this land in the name of the Ancient One…!"_

Lucy gasped as some force made her head pound. Her free hand clutched her hair. The images changed – showing her dressed all in black - attired in livery grander than her mother, as she sat on a throne. The pale, half-starved villagers of Shadowbrook bowed before her. She was laughing gleefully. Next to her stood masked figures dressed in black and red. Masks that had noses like beaks… And behind her, in the darkness, something wiggled, squirmed, _throbbed_. A thick green tentacle reached out and caressed her face and neck like a lover…

With an effort, Lucy focused on her faith in god, in the kindness of her parents and her governess. In her affection for Karl…

 _"No! Your parents lied to you… They are not worthy of your love!"_

 _"Your soldier is weak! He will fail you…"_

Her foot brushed against something hard. Lucy managed to force her head down – and she saw the ruined face of the miller's workman. Saw his torn clothes, and torn chest…

She screamed.

The voices hissed their anger.

Backing away towards where she hoped the steps still were, Lucy fell upon the floor. The lantern shattered. Panicking, she scrambled towards the faint beam of light. Moments later, she felt herself being seized. Yelling again, Lucy tried to lash out – only to be held tight.

"It's me, Lucy! Karl!"

Ceasing her attack upon him, Lucy felt herself being carried back up to the stone floor level of the windmill. Once she and Karl were through the trapdoor, Thomas and Heidi shut it to – silencing the maddening whispers. The rusty key was turned in the lock, and Thomas pocketed it.

On the floor, Lucy sobbed and held tightly onto Karl as he comforted her.

"Horrible…! They weren't human! Tried to tempt me…with power! The workman, down there…dead. Oh, Karl…"

"Shush… You are safe… You are safe with us!" he declared, holding her tight.

Heidi looked dumbfounded. "Vat in heaven's name is happening to this township?" she asked.

"Not what in heaven. More like what in hell…," Thomas muttered darkly, as he guided the German girl away from the locked trapdoor. "Let's find somemutt heavy to push over it…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

 **Agents Of Evil**

 **The Fields:**

Isabella von Took had made herself comfortable in the coach, with her seat facing forwards – and was enjoying a rest. Her grey hooded eyes shot open, however, as the coach began shaking over rough ground. Moments later, it halted next to a large tree.

Annoyed, she opened the window next to her and leaned her head out.

"Driver! Why have we stopped?"

The white-bearded old coachman got down from his seat to better address his client. He gestured at the track they were on, and the farmland surrounding them.

"The road ain't good enough for the wheels, Miss!" he gruffly announced. "You'll have to disembark here."

Isabella peered down at the uneven track below here, with its countless stones, mud, and what looked like the droppings of cattle…

With a sniff of disdain, she slammed the window to and opened the door at the opposite side of the coach, to look down.

 _Better…_

Gathering her belongings, she stepped down from the coach – aided by the coachman who had hurried round. She was followed out by Anne Marie, who was looking at the gathering clouds in the gray sky with anxiety, as she adjusted the starched white collar of her blouse.

Unnoticed by the others, she spied something metallic by the base of the tree. Stepping over to it, Anne Marie bent down and picked up a key.

Acting on an intuitive hunch, she pocketed it.

Close by, Inspector Cooke had halted his black horse. He swept out his arm, to point at the farm closest to them.

"That's our destination, ladies. I estimate a ten to fifteen minute walk."

"I'm staying here, with me coach," the coachman grunted.

Isabella and Anne Marie looked at the trail that led pass the entrance to the farm. If they hitched up their skirts, and stepped gingerly, they would avoid the cowpats – the schoolmistress considered. Then there was the need to avoid the rain that threatened to break out…

"You will allow us ladies to ride your horse, surely, Inspector?" Isabella faced him unflinchingly. "I am an experienced rider – and it is only for a few minutes, after all…"

Cooke raised his eyebrow. Sighing, he assented to her request, as he climbed down from his horse – and got ready to help the women onto his steed. Isabella went up first to take the reins. Naturally…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

A little later, the three of them had arrived at Major Bruckner's farmhouse, named Hob House Farm. Isabella and Anne Marie had pulled up their skirts to knee height whilst crossing the yard, to avoid the muck present. And the trio had carefully wiped their shoes upon entering the building. There was still too much mud left, for Isabella's liking – but she turned her attention to the conversation between the Inspector and Mrs Bruckner as they sipped at their hot tea and sat in what passed for the living room, which was mainly composed of wooden furniture, oil paintings of landscapes and the war with Britain, and the best feature of all – a roaring coal fire, near to which Isabella stood, warming her hands, as she listened.

"My husband is not at home, Inspector. He has gone, with several of the farmhands, to the olde woods to hunt game…"

"I see, Mrs Bruckner. Perhaps I can speak to someone else? Is Mr Barnes present on the farm?"

"Barnes? Why would you…?"

"Is he here?" Cooke pressed her.

"He'll be in the stables. I'll fetch him." Mrs Bruckner turned and left the farmhouse. A couple of minutes later, she returned with a nervous-looking young man – who eyed the new arrivals with suspicion, as his fingers clutched at the hat that he had taken off upon entry.

"I am Inspector Cooke," Cooke explained. "I am investigating the attacks around this township."

At that, Barnes seemed to relax a little – though Isabella noticed that he flicked his eyes towards Mrs Bruckner. Cooke picked up on this too, and he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Madam."

"Oh… I will feed the pigs then," Mrs Bruckner sniffed and left again.

"You sent that message for me. What exactly happened, the night before last?" the Inspector asked Barnes.

The farmhand glanced at Isabella and Anne Marie. " 'Tis not for the ears of ladies, sir."

" _We_ will be the judge of that, Mr Barnes. Miss Piaget and I are here to assist the good Inspector – whilst his sergeant is chasing the Scarlet Shadow and his gang."

"Sit down and tell us the story, man," Cooke prompted him.

Barnes sat down on the wooden-framed sofa, next to Anne Marie. "Very well…" He proceeded to tell them about the attack by the huge animal which had killed one of the sheep in their field, before mauling the farm's dog.

"And you say that this…animal…had charged towards the Major – only to stop suddenly?" Anne Marie asked him. "The Major was wearing some amulet…"

"…and that seemed to make the thing halt its attack, yes." Barnes muttered. "The animal knocked me down – but didn't even scratch me. It was like…it didn't want me. It wanted the Major!"

"A wild animal with a directed intelligence. And a creature that survived the bullets fired at it," Isabella observed. "And how is the dog faring now?"

"Sophie's told me that he's healing well. Remarkably well," Barnes answered. "In fact, she's back for her second visit now. First was yesterday."

"Sophie? Sophie O'Hare, the midwife of Shadowbrook?" Cooke lowered his teacup and leaned forward in his seat.

"That's right, sir. She's more than a midwife. She's tending to the dog, in the outhouse."

"Really?" Cooke stood up. "Take us there, if you please…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The outhouse was a low brick structure next to the other farm buildings, with grimy-looking windows. Entering, Cooke, Isabella and Anne Marie saw old farming tools and rusty-looking ploughs stored away.

On the far side of the room, underneath an old blanket, was an unmoving shape. Anne Marie gasped as she took in the trail of dried blood on the stone floor which led to it.

"The…sheep?"

"Yes, Miss." Barnes took off his hat again. "If you not be needing me any longer, sir. I need to return to my jobs."

Inspector Cooke took in the other person present in the room, and nodded. "You may go, Barnes."

As the groom departed, Anne Marie saw the blonde-haired lady move. Sophie O'Hare had been on her knees, removing dressings and examining the skin and fur of the farm dog, which was being held in an upturned stone trough to contain it. Upon catching the scent of the three strangers, the dog growled.

"Quiet, Brutus!" Sophie snapped, pointing her forefinger at the dog. He promptly fell silent. Then the elder turned her attention to the arrivals as she stood up. Anne Marie noticed that Sophie's smile broadened upon seeing the Inspector…

"Good day to you all! I'm afraid I only know you, Inspector Cooke…"

"Miss O'Hare. Please meet Schoolmistress Anne Marie Piaget, who has settled into your township in recent months. And this here is Isabella von Took… What are you doing, Mademoiselle Piaget?"

Anne Marie had noticed the book on the ground, besides the trough containing the injured dog. She looked over the dog, seeing that there were only faint scars remaining – then she knelt down to read the open tomb before her. "A book of medicine? And one that 'as been well written. Clear enough for anyone to understand…" She paused and glanced around at the others present. "Pardon. Books are my passion…"

Sophie gave a slow smile. She quickly washed her tools in a bucket of water and cleaned them – before wiping her own hands on a nearby rag. "So what do I have here with me? Inspector Cooke, Madam von Took…, and Mademoiselle _Book_?" she gave a small giggle, which made Cooke smirk. He was also finding her Irish accent to be rather engaging.

"Mr Barnes says you are more than a midwife, Miss O'Hare," he declared, stepping forward. He nodded at Brutus the dog. "You are trained in animal husbandry?"

"Self-trained, yes, Inspector. I was raised on a farm myself. I hate to see animals mistreated or in pain." Sophie's tone turned sober.

"And this dog was savaged – non? You 'ave done well in treating 'im!" Anne Marie beamed.

Sophie frowned. "I have played my part, yes. But Brutus's injuries have largely healed by themselves. When I first saw him, yesterday morning, it was touch and go as to if he would survive. And now…" She shrugged her shoulders. "…there are hardly any marks on him. I cannot explain it."

"Really?" the Inspector approached the dog, who was eying him warily. "From the marks done to the dog…, do you have any idea what attacked…Brutus?"

"A large animal certainly. I would say something like a huge dog or wolf."

Cooke pulled at the tip of his beard. "Could such an animal have been responsible for attacking the other animals that were attacked - or the men torn apart at the olde woods, Miss O'Hare?"

She bit her lip. "I have not seen the bodies of those men. As for the animals that were killed… Yes, I saw some of them. And yes, I do think the same hunting animal was responsible."

"It is curious, is it not?" Isabella spoke up – and the Inspector and Sophie turned to face her, whilst Anne Marie watched on. "From what you have told me at the manor, Inspector, two of the men connected to this farm were brutally killed at those woods. A third man is missing – with only a screaming statue in his likeness left in his place…"

"…and the next night, there is an attack 'ere at ze farm – leaving a slaughtered sheep and an injured dog. A dog zat has since miraculously recovered," Anne Marie concluded. She looked worried. "And ze Major was charged at by ze animal responsible… Where was the Major during the night his men were attacked?"

"He was not at the farm that evening. I have already learnt this from his wife," Sophie informed them. She told me that she went to bed alone – and did not see him until the next day."

"So Shadowbrook is being plagued by more than one type of menace, it seems," Isabella pointed out. "The first we have seen for ourselves, Inspector. The second type seems to be a large canine."

"But it must be a natural predator of some sort, despite its strange behavior," Cooke objected.

Anne Marie watched the three of them as they continued their reasoning. The Inspector continuing to search for rational explanations, despite all that he had experienced so far – or so Isabella had told her. Isabella herself being determined to get whatever she set her mind to – whether that was answers, or slyly persuading men to cater for her. As for Sophie O'Hare… Anne Marie tried to learn from people by observing them – how they talked and acted. And what made them unique. Sophie seemed friendly. But the schoolteacher felt that there was a lot more to her…

Then she heard the laughter.

Anne Marie jerked her head round towards the sound. But there was nobody else present. And yet, faint as it had been, it had definitely been a woman's laughter – and within the room.

"Did anyone hear zat?" she asked aloud.

"Hear what?" Cooke looked baffled.

Isabella frowned. "I heard nothing unusual."

"A woman's laughter." Anne Marie spun to face Sophie. "Did you…?"

"I-I heard nothing. Nothing at…," the midwife stammered. Then she trailed off, looking beyond Anne Marie – who turned quickly to see a cat on the outside ledge of the nearest window. There was a green glow emanating from it – or so it seemed, for the strange light disappeared a moment later. Then the cat leapt off the ledge, and went out of everyone's sight.

Anne Marie spun back round. She was quick enough to see the look of recognition on Isabella's face – and another expression on the face of the midwife. It was one of…

Then she was distracted by the reappearance of the green light again, as it materialized above Brutus – before sinking into him and vanishing.

"What the devil wa-?" Cooke cried out.

The dog howled, before collapsing in his trough. Then his body convulsed and began to change – rapidly.

Sophie screamed and backed away – until she was pressed against the nearest wall. Meanwhile, Inspector Cooke, Isabella, and Anne Marie were all glued to where they stood, spellbound, until the dog snarled and broke down the side of the stone trough with its forepaws.

Only he wasn't a dog any longer – not as such. His fur had grown thicker and wilder. The claws had lengthened. The exposed fangs were longer. And the face was not so much canine, as lupine. The expression was twisted with rage.

Brutus now resembled a creature that was three-quarters wolf. And his eyes were glowing green as they swept the room and settled on Sophie.

Then he bounded towards her.

Yelling again, the midwife launched herself from where she leaned against the wall and ran towards the others. Instinctively, Inspector Cooke grabbed hold of her, and raised his pistol to fire at the mutated dog as he paused to change direction.

The 'bang' resounded loudly through the outhouse. Anne Marie gasped as the dog yelped and fell to the floor. In the silence that fell they all gathered their breath.

Then the wolf-dog rose to his feet again – the wound in his neck _closing_ before their very eyes. The lead shot was pushed out of the flesh, and dropped to the floor. Brutus's eyes now blazed hatred – and he snarled again. The fangs gleamed with saliva in the moment before he pounced, leaping for Cooke and Sophie, even as the Inspector tried to push the midwife aside…

Isabella finished loading the gun she had taken from its fittings on the wall, and took quick aim before firing.

The blast shattered the mutated dog's head. Brutus's body struck the floor where Cooke and Sophie had just rolled aside from. Blood splattered the flagstones.

The remains of the dog twitched briefly – and then ceased moving.

As Anne Marie got up from where she had fallen in her panic, she thought she heard a yell of fury that swiftly faded away in the air…

Everyone looked up across to Isabella, who was still clutching the hunting rifle in her hands. She was drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. Then she smiled at her handiwork.

"I only need _one_ shot…with this type of gun," she declared.

"Th-thank you," Sophie spoke up as Cooke helped her to her feet.

"But my gun… It failed to stop… The wound _healed_ itself…!" Cooke's words tripped over themselves as they poured from his mouth. "How come your g…?"

Isabella smirked, as she opened up the barrel of the rifle. "I loaded the only silver shot I had in my pouch," she explained.

"Silver? Mais oui… Of course…," Anne Marie breathed as she pressed a hand against her heart. Feeling herself once more, she turned to address Sophie – only to see the midwife running for the door.

"Non! Mademoiselle O'Hare – I wish to…"

"Please excuse me! I must get back to town," Sophie cried out, looking over her shoulder only briefly as she sprinted along the path back to the stables.

"She must have arrived here on a horse…," Cooke deduced, as he stared at the retreating figure of the attractive blonde midwife. Then he shut the door of the outhouse to, and turned round to address the women still with him inside, as he stared at the remains of the dog. He shook his head. "I do not understand this…," he admitted.

"It is simple enough, Inspector," Isabella told him as she sat down on the only stool present. "That dog was infected…"

"…by the curse of the loup-garou," Anne Marie finished the noblewoman's line of thought. She shuddered with fear. "I have heard my father speak much of the homeland that I have never seen with my own eyes. One of the many things he had told me was of the loup-garou. In the English tongue, the werewolf."

"A werewolf...!?" Cooke whispered incuriously. "A werewolf came to this farm the night before last…"

"…and targeted the Major it seems. Only the dog attacked it. The result being that Brutus the dog came off worse for the fight – and infected," Isabella declared.

"And th-that…glow?"

"It came from that cat I saw on the window ledge outside. Non…!" Anne Marie paused to correct herself, and she pointed at Isabella. "…what _we_ saw. You recognized it. So too did Mademoiselle O'Hare. She was terrified of it, also!"

Isabella nodded. "It was the same cat that I saw in the maze at the manor. Lady Hanbrook was frightened of it. It scratched her – and then disappeared from a dead end, without passing through the hedge."

A loud knock sounded at the door. As Cooke called out 'Enter', Barnes burst into the outhouse. He was out of breath.

"Inspector…? Ladies…? I heard gunshots… Wh-?" The young man's eyes widened as he saw the dead dog.

A realization slowly took form and rose to the surface in Cooke's mind. He turned and grasped Barnes's shoulder.

"Steady yourself man! I need you to think… I understand that on the evening that Bunt and Shaw were killed, the Major was not here at the farm."

Barnes gulped. "N-no sir. He was not. I did not see him until gone midnight, that night."

"Where was he?"

The young man looked down at the floor. "I could not say, sir. It could cost me my job…"

"Answer me, dammit! This is important! Further lives could be at risk."

Barnes looked up. "He did not speak to me of this – but I believe the Major was out with Mister Bunt and the Shaw brothers, sir. He and several of the men are hooligans – those men included. They would have been drinking. They buy grog from the smugglers in the area, sir. Meet up on the road to Tidewater, they do…"

"Was there anything about the Major's behavior that night – or in the morning - which seemed odd to you? Before he left the farm to meet some of the other elders at the olde woods, after the dead men were discovered…?"

Barnes's throat bobbed once more, before he spoke. "I…I heard him arriving after midnight, sir. Spied him from the window of my room when he disturbed me. He didn't see me. His clothes were a mess – like he slipped in cow droppings. He washed himself in the stables, I believe. I saw evidence of this in the morning. The clothes, the mess – and some blood, along with some torn cloth."

"Torn cloth? The Major had been injured?" Cooke's nostrils flared.

"I believe so, sir. Major Bruckner's arm seemed to be caused him trouble in the morning when he set out on his horse. But if he bandaged it, no one would see with his shirt and coat on."

"Mon dieu. If the werewolf had bitten Major Bruckner…," Anne Marie spoke up.

"…we need to find him, before he goes the same way as the dog here…," Cooke concluded. "When is the next full moon?"

"Tomorrow night, I believe," Isabella answered, maintaining her composure. She stared at the gun. "Perhaps we should return to Shadowbrook, Inspector. We could do with finding more silver shot for one thing."

Barnes looked confused. "Silver shot? Hector Dalton, the blacksmith, can help you there."

"Excellent! Then we must go to him. Oh…" Isabella reached inside her purse and held out several coins to Barnes. "I really would like to buy this excellent hunting rifle from you…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Several minutes after being rescued from the basement, Lucy had calmed down enough to begin to relate what had happened to her in the darkness.

She, Karl, Lucy, and Heidi had retreated to the next floor up – the bin floor. Heidi kept occasional watch on the trapdoor, which was now blocked off. There had been no further disturbance from whatever lurked in the cellar.

The storm had passed, and now the party sat on the floor, passing around a bottle of wine between them. Lucy had taken some to sip carefully from, first of all, to steady her nerves. Then the four of them had eaten some dried meat and biscuits from Karl and Thomas's supplies.

Lucy told them everything of the images her mind had received – except how she had been portrayed in them. The sole elder of Shadowbrook. A servant to darkness. A priestess and _mistress_ to whatever the…thing had been. She still felt a churning swirl of emotions at how she had felt at first. The exhilaration of having power. Giddiness at being chosen as the de facto ruler – and consort - for the Ancient One. That had quickly been followed by bewilderment, horror, and disgust at what she had seen. Disgust at herself too, that she could become corrupted.

" 'The Ancient One'… Is that what's down there, Miss?" Thomas asked as he took a swig from the wine bottle.

Lucy swallowed down the bits of her biscuit before shaking her head. "No. I…sensed…that it is…a vanguard…of sorts – for whatever that _horror_ was in my last vision. It…" Lucy drew in her breath and stared Karl and Thomas in the eyes. "It is not of this world, is it?"

"No…," Karl answered slowly. Carefully. "It's a demon. And either it's killed the workman, after luring him into the cellar – or someone has dumped his body there. Maybe to hide the body. Maybe to feed the demon. Probably both. Now how did it get from its realm of existence to this windmill? And what connection – if any – does it have with the men who were torn apart…"

"…or the screaming statues?" Thomas completed Karl's line of thought.

Heidi's face was pale. "How many monsters could vere possibly be in our midst? Surely vere is one force behind all vis?"

Lucy frowned, staring at the floor. "After my…experience, my instinct tells me that…whatever is in the darkness…it was brought there into our world, into the cellar itself. It has not yet _left_ the cellar. It is building up its strength… Which means…" She raised her face to the others. "…some other evil is on the move!"

"Wonderful. Just wonderful…," Thomas snorted, as he finished eating. "We need to start fighting back, Karl. And so far, we got from here a pistol and a pitchfork for weapons…"

A loud bang interrupted him. It came from downstairs. They all jumped.

Heidi visibly swallowed, and forced herself down the stairs. Moments later, there was another bang. Heidi hurried back up.

"The trapdoor…?" Karl pressed her, hurriedly putting his food away and readying himself for action.

The handmaiden shook her head. "Nein! It vas the doors! Someone trying to break in!"

Karl addressed Heidi and Lucy. "Stand back… I'll handle this!"

"Not without me, matey," Thomas retorted.

"Be careful!" Lucy implored them.

Downstairs, the two men paused as they saw the splintered wood at the base of one of the double doors. Otherwise, there was silence.

Thomas moved forward – and laid himself flat on the stone floor before the damaged door.

"What are you doing?" Karl hissed softly. "Whoever – or whatever – is there might break through any mo-"

"Trying to get a peek!" Thomas rasped. He edged his face and right hand closer to the gap. Then his eye widened as…

A blue-gray colored clawed hand shot through the gap like lighting, seizing Thomas's hand with an icy grip. As Karl watched in shock, the hand glowed with a faint blue light.

"Aaaggghhh!"

Thomas tried to break free of the intruder's grasp. His other hand tried to pull his knife from his belt – but his body contorted with agony.

Cocking his pistol, Karl dashed over and shot Thomas's assailant in the wrist. The noise assaulted their ears.

Something just outside the doors gave an inhuman screech. It let go of Thomas. The being's hand vanished through the gap – and Karl wasted no time in dragging his friend away from the doors. Thomas swore and clutched at his hand.

"Is it bad?" Karl barked.

"It clawed me! But… _yaagghh!_ Somemutt's happening to my hand! It's going stiff. Can't…move my fingers!" Thomas removed his other hand.

Both he and Karl were frozen stiff by the sight of Thomas's injured hand. The skin was turning gray.

Thomas yelped and torn his shirt sleeve cuff. The discoloration had stopped at his wrist. But now the flesh of his hand had turned hard and rigid…

…as stone.

Something crashed through the doors – breaking the damaged one into pieces. A winged shape was glimpsed by the men, before it disappeared out of view. Then their attention was drawn to the missile that had been thrown at the doors to the windmill, and which had landed just before them, face-down. It was the screaming statue of Miss Palfreyman.

A grating noise sounded. Before the disbelieving eyes of Karl and Thomas, the limbs of the statue _moved_. Pressing palms and knees to the cold stone floor, the statue gradually rose to its full height. The gray face was not longer set in a fixed scream now. Instead, it was smiling. Cruelly. The eyes glowed with a white light.

The arms rose into position – hands outstretched to throttle the two men. Underneath her stone skirt, Miss Palfreyman slowly stepped forward to attack…


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

 **Ghosts In The Fog**

 **The Fields:**

Inspector Cooke, Isabella, and Anne Marie left Major Bruckner's farm hastily – after Cooke had told Bennett to burn the body of the infected dog.

"I wish to meet Major Bruckner at the earliest opportunity, man!" the Inspector told the groom. "If he returns to the farm before I can visit here again, send word onto me."

The trio of investigators then left the farm as soon as there was a lull in the rainstorm. Luckily for them, the coachman had eventually found another way across the fields, so that he was able to stop closer to Hob House farm. However, he could not travel any further east. Upon being told by his clients that they wished to head back to town, the coachman pocketed the extra sum of coins from Isabella and turned the coach back onto the road leading to Hanbrook Manor – before driving past the entrance and following the twisting road southeast towards Shadowbrook again.

"I wish to return to my home and engage in some research from my little study," Anne Marie told Isabella and Inspector Cooke. "I will join you later at ze blacksmiths."

The others looked at each other. Isabella nodded. "After the blacksmiths, some refreshment is called for, I think. We cannot fight any enemy – let alone a supernatural one – without adequate food and drink."

"Fine," Cooke replied, sounding calmer than he felt, as he gradually dried off. The incident with the dog had shaken him. Despite this, a part of him was wondering how Sergeant Allardyce was getting on in his pursuit of the Scarlet Shadow. And also how Harrison and Harlow were coping in their own investigation of the recent killings in the township…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Karl yelled for the assistance of the women. The fight with the statue of Miss Palfreyman was not going well. Although Thomas was now using his knife with his left hand – joining in with Karl's own knife fight upon their assailant – the skin of the animated statue was practically stone. A stone that turned fluid enough to allow the living statue a jerky, start-stop movement, before resuming hardened solidity again. Learning from this, and timing their co-ordinated attacks carefully, Thomas and Karl were able to keep the living statue back – and avoid injury themselves. But they were so far failing to damage it in turn.

"Dear Lord…!" Karl heard Lucy call out.

"Mein gott!" That, of course, was Heidi.

"Block off the gap in the doorway! There's something else out there!" Karl yelled.

"And don't let it grab you!" Thomas grunted, as he changed tactics and bashed the bottom of his knife hilt into the head of the attacking statue, which resulted in a 'thunk'. Miss Palfreyman – or whatever intelligence lay beneath the gray face – gave a silent snarl.

"Quick, Heidi! Help me with this table here. If we can upturn it…"

As she spoke, Lucy put down her newly-found pistol, in order to get to work. But even as the ladies cleared the table from the clutter upon it, a shadow fell upon them from the gap where the door had been shattered. With little light in the room itself, no one was able to see it clearly in time, as it squeezed through the doorway, and reached out to grab the ankle of the nearest human target…

Lucy screamed as she was yanked off-balance. With her back to her attacker, she fell to the ground, taking a bruise to her arm whilst feeling agony around her seized ankle. Then the…thing…started to drag her backwards along the floor.

"No! Lucy!" Karl yelled out, as he ducked from a swipe from the living statue.

With an effort, Lucy resisted the pull upon her ankle. She managed to grab her fallen pistol, and readied it. Then raising it above her head and pointing it behind her upside-down in her frantic desperation, Lucy fired.

Something gave an inhuman _screech_ of pain and anger. It let go of Lucy, as it was punched back outside by the gunshot. In the next moment, Heidi was pulling Lucy up to her feet. But as she put weight on her left foot, a wave of unbelievable pain swept through her. Lucy refused to let go of the pistol, however.

 _"Aaaggghhh!"_

"We gotta retreat!" Thomas yelled. His cheek had now been slashed by stony fingers, and blood was dripping down his face and onto his uniform.

"Agreed," Karl snapped. "Heidi – get Lucy upstairs. Now! We'll follow!"

"Yah, mein herr!" Heidi answered back. She helped to push Lucy up the wooden stepladder, before passing through the gap to the next floor herself.

Moments later, at Karl's urging, Thomas had sheathed his knife and was climbing the stepladder using only one hand. His right hand had ceased to function – it was just like the hands of that darned statue…

Sweating coldly at the thought, even as he pushed it out of his mind, Thomas scrambled through the gap in the ceiling.

Punching out at the statue as it tried to attack him again, Karl turned and sprinted for the stepladder. He had reached a point halfway – then yelled as the statue seized his waist from behind with both hands.

The _'bang'_ made Karl's ears ring for a few moments. He felt the grasp of his assailant weaken – and he forced himself up another couple of steps. But the statue had now shifted its hold onto his legs – and it was trying to use its weight to pull him down.

"Karl! I dare not shoot it again whilst your head is in the way!" Lucy cried out.

He glanced up, seeing her fearful face. The sight of Lucy, with the still-smoking gun, gave him strength…

"Then I'll handle this!" he grunted, turning his face around to see the bizarre sight of the living statue's half-missing head – the rest of it laying in fragments on the floor below, after receiving Lucy's fired bullet.

His heart lurched with terror at the frightening sight of his attacker. Then, gritting his teeth, Karl Harrison tensed his free arm and rabbit punched the statue in the neck.

The impact hurt his fist – but the force was enough to knock the ghastly animated thing backwards. It lost its tenuous foot grip on the stepladder and fell backwards to land on the stony floor below – shattering into pieces as it did so.

A scream of fury resounded from whatever was outside. The noise chilled Karl to the bone. Even after his experiences during the war, he had never heard such a bellow as that before…

Moments later, he had been pulled through up onto the next floor. As Karl panted with exertion, Heidi was shutting and bolting the trapdoor that separated the two levels. Then Lucy was hugging him furiously again, her eyes moist. Karl gratefully squeezed her back.

Lucy fingered the blood on his jacket. "You're injured! Is it bad?" she sobbed.

He checked himself, and shook his head. "It's just a scratch… I've had worse."

"Oh… Thank god for that…"

When all four of the slumped party had all recovered a little from their shock, Heidi broke the silence that had fallen, as she examined Thomas's right hand.

"It is like stone!" she exclaimed. "Vat are ve going to do about vis?"

"I do not know…," Karl muttered, as he felt the hardness of the gray skin for himself. "I believe this is some form of a curse."

"Doctor Manning might know how to treat a curse. He is a learned man, who I know has experimented with herbs and potions…," Lucy breathed. Her face had turned pale.

"What about you, Karl?" Thomas rasped. "Did that statue pass on…anything of itself…to you?"

The soldier shook his head. "I feel no stiffness or pain. It seems as if it was that _other_ thing – the being outside – that has caused your strange ailment, Thomas. And it did not touch me…" Karl trailed off, horror crossing his face. He turned to face Lucy, his eyes questioning. Thomas and Heidi faced her also.

"I am afraid to look… My ankle…," Lucy whimpered.

"Allow me, mistress," Heidi dragged herself over to the younger woman.

Reluctantly, Lucy removed her left shoe and ripped stocking. She wailed as her hardened, gray ankle was revealed…

Outside of the windmill, something inhuman could be heard stomping around. Nobody was feeling brave enough to look down through the nearest window.

"Two of us afflicted! Now what do we do?" Thomas snapped at Karl. "So much for us being here only briefly! We mustn't linger!"

"Unfortunately, we don't have a choice," Karl answered gravely, meeting the gazes of the others. "We are trapped inside. By whatever is responsible for turning those people…" He stopped himself, realizing the anguish his words would deliver to Thomas and to Lucy.

"…for turning those people into statues," Lucy whispered, trembling as her eyes wept silent tears.

Already, she could feel the slow creeping of the curse through her body. She glanced below, to see the skin of her foot turn hard and rigid…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Marsh:**

Despite there being another couple of hours before sunset, fog had formed in the damp air outside of the Abandoned Fortress – and it was now slowly advancing towards the cracked and crumbling ruins, twisting and withering as though it had a life of its own.

Victor Danforth shivered, wide-eyed, as he stood just outside the fortress. He could have sworn that he had just seen fleeting faces in the fog – faces that blurred and flowed with the ever-shifting wisps.

"You… You see them…too?" he croaked to his companions.

"We all do, Mr Danforth," Jack reassured him, smirking. "They'll try to whisper in your mind, and drive you crazy if you let them. We've learnt that the hard way."

"But…what are they? Gh-ghosts? What d-do they want?"

"We believe that they are the spirits of folk who have died over the years, whilst crossing the wrong part of the marsh," the Scarlet Shadow declared. "There seems to be some curse over the marsh that prevents their souls from moving on. As for what they want – they wish to drink our vitality, in order to feel halfway alive again!" He nodded at the scruffy-looking pair of outlaws who were accompanying them. Both of them were thin and bore haunted-looking eyes. "Ruby and Rudy have each been drained by the wraiths. As you can see."

Victor gulped.

"Just hold onto that faith of yours, Victor – and we'll be fine. Your faith will act as our shield as we head through the marsh. But we need to get going!" Katarina announced, slamming her loaded pistol shut. She also had a loaded crossbow with her, Victor noted. Whilst the Scarlet Shadow bore a fine-looking rapier.

 _And here is me armed with no more than a rosary…,_ Victor mused ruefully.

They set off on foot, sticking to the road – and staying close to each other, nearly touching. The Scarlet Shadow led the group, with Victor instructed to keep just behind the outlaw leader. Next came Jack – then the brother and sister duo of Ruby and Rudy. Katarina brought up the rear.

As they advanced into the fog, the ghostly faces reappeared and moaned. Victor was already reciting the Lord's Prayer as he fingered the rosary around his clammy fingers. He began to trail off.

"Again, Mr Danforth! And louder!" the Shadow urged him.

"Our father, who art in heaven. Ha-hallowed be thy name…," Victor raised his voice, drowning out the whispers in his mind. The ghosts were asking for a sip of his energy – promising him with visions of fame and fortune with his plays, if he did so…

The damp, cold air made him shiver and shudder. But he was being encouraged by the sight of the ghosts steering away from him.

"Repeat after me, everyone!" he called out. "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On earth, as it is in heaven…"

And the outlaws did so. A few minutes later, the last of the ghosts had hissed and faded away from sight. The fog around them suddenly retreated towards the marsh that lay a short distance before them.

The Scarlet Shadow stopped to check on how everyone in the party was. This time, none of the outlaws had suffered from their unearthly encounter. No one was drained, or injured.

"Good work, Mr Danforth." The Shadow inclined his head to the playwright. He might also have been smiling – but it was hard to tell with that face mask of his. "Now – let's quickly get across the marsh itself, before anything else…"

He fell silent upon seeing Jack raise his hand into the air, for silence. The youth then turned his head, listening carefully. Then they all heard the noises. Several horses, slowing down. They turned round to face the bend in the road.

About six riders and horses appeared in sight. Victor recognized one of the tricorn hatted riders as the sergeant who had accompanied that detective fellow from Boston. The other armed men had to be militia…

"Halt!" cried out Sergeant Allardyce, as he pulled up his horse. "Stop in the name of the law!"

The horses of the other men were halted, allowing their riders to pull out their pistols…

"Run! Into the fog!" yelled the Scarlet Shadow.

The outlaws made a break for the shifting white mass before them, taking the protesting Victor with them. Shots rang out, the noise of the blasts dulled somewhat by the marsh air. Victor stumbled as he stepped into a boggy patch. Crying out as his arms whipped at the air in search of something solid enough with which pull himself free, his heart pounded a little less as Katarina and Jack yanked him out of the sinking earth.

A horse whinnied as its hooves sank into another stretch of soft ground just underneath the shallow water. The animal tried to twist round, only to lose its balance. The man on top splashed into the water. His cry turned into a gurgle. Another rider, however, had found some firmer ground – and his horse was cantering towards the outlaws...

"You won't get away this time, you wretch!" the soldier cried out.

"Bennett…!" Katarina spat. She spun her head round to face her gang's servant boy. "Jack – guide Victor through the marsh and across the river!" Katarina barked at the lad.

"Sure thing, Miss Clark." Jack held onto Victor firmly as he concentrated on navigating their way through the marsh. It was a familiar enough route to him – but he needed to keep his eyes on the ground and water before him.

"Wh-what are you doing, Miss Clark?" Victor pressed her.

"Dealing with this corrupt soldier, who murdered my sister…," Katarina snapped, as she raised her crossbow and spun round to face the oncoming rider, who was even now bearing his pistol upon her.

Katarina was quicker. Her fired quarrel hit the scarred militiaman in the throat. She caught a glimpse of Bennett's shocked, wide eyes, before he tumbled from his horse and fell into the marsh. One hand grasped at the bolt, then twitched and fell still – along with the rest of his body. The swallow, muddy water around him began to turn red…

Then the air suddenly turned colder. A groaning – faint at first – resounded into a chorus of unearthly cries. Victor and Jack halted in their tracks as two apparitions materialized before them, taking the form of two bushy-mustached soldiers wearing uniforms and tricorn hats similar to the militia. Their faces, however, were marked by wounds and decaying flesh – and they glowed with an ethereal green-white light, whilst their eyes were a blank white.

Victor gasped – then glanced around him as he heard screams around him, from Ruby and the men on both sides of the skirmish. Another white glow had appeared from nowhere, containing with it more ghostly soldiers, who were now taking aim with their rifles and bayonets…

"God have mercy on us! Use your rosary, Mr Danforth!" Jack urged him.

Victor did so, as he clenched his pudgy hand around it and concentrated.

 _You cannot harm me…! I am protected! I believe in God Almighty, and the Holy Mother…_

The ghosts before him and Jack flinched and yelled – as if they had just been struck by a thrown rock. They took a few steps back, allowing Jack to pull Victor by their held hands, as they pressed onwards – not daring to waste time. Victor glanced backwards just once. He could catch only glimpses of movement in the mists – but he could clearly hear the unnatural roars of the ghostly soldiers as they charged all before them. A man screamed, and there was a heavy 'splat' as he fell down. Horses shrieked - and men shouted to each other, yelling to god for deliverance…

Victor was tempted to yell his encouragement – but then, if the militia survived the battle, what would happen to him? Would they rescue him from the outlaws, or jail him as being amongst their number…?

But there was no time to shout back. Too much was happening at once. Victor panted as he and Jack arrived at the banks of the River Shadow. The playwright glanced down at his already-sodden shoes and pants.

"Ooohhh… My clothes!" he moaned.

"We'll dry out, Mr Danforth. Once we're across and hidden from the sol'jers!" Jack panted. "Now. C'mon! We can use the stepping stones that lie just under the water, near here…"

Before long, they were across. Victor and Jack hid amongst the foliage at the edge of the olde woods, with Jack dropping his backpack on the ground as they rested and kept watch for the rest of their party. The fog hung over the marsh and the western edge of the river, hiding everyone within the churning blanket of white from view.

Eventually, they were alerted by splashing. A sobbing Ruby was being dragged along by Katarina – whilst the Scarlet Shadow guarded their backs. All of them bore wounds. Making their way carefully across the stepping stones, the trio was alerted by Jack's bird-like call – and they sluggishly made their way up the riverbank to hide with Jack and Victor. Barely had they done so, than Sergeant Allardyce and one of the militia soldiers emerged from the fog – looking equally the worse for wear after the battle.

"They've gone, Sergeant!" the soldier yelled.

"They can't be far, Private Costello! Follow their tracks, for God's sake!"

"Sir. We need to see to the survivors…!"

Sergeant Allardyce took a deep breath – then released it, nodding. "Yes. We should do that… Just…what the devil were those… _things_?"

"Um. Ghosts, sir. I have heard it said 'round here that they are the troubled souls of soldiers from the war. There was a battle in this spot, back then."

"The war…? That ended twenty years ago! W-why did they fight…us?"

"Reckon their souls are trapped here, sir – due to the manner o' their deaths. They are jealous o' the livin' – so they hate us. An' so they attack us." The Private paused – and then spoke again. "The men, sir… We haven't got enough to take on the Scarlet Shadow now…"

Allardyce seethed. "Yes, dammit! Let's get out of here, and retreat back to Shadowbrook!" He turned and led the soldier back towards the marsh.

Seconds passed. Satisfied that the danger had passed, the Scarlet Shadow sighed from his slumped position behind the undergrowth of the thicket of trees. He faced his band.

"We were lucky to get out of that as much as we did! Jack – you have the healing herbs from these woods on you. See to our injuries!"

"Right away, boss." Jack unpacked the herbs and some bandages – and also a pot - as he started to get to work by fetching water to boil for the herbs. Meanwhile, Ruby – who had been silent when Allardyce had appeared – was now wailing.

"Shush…! Not too loudly – or they'll come back," Katarina spoke, keeping her voice low whilst she comforted the other woman outlaw.

"Her brother…?" Victor was reluctant to ask, but he did so anyway.

Katarina nodded, her eyes hard. "Rudy took a bullet from the militia. He tried to crawl away – but then one of the ghost soldiers stabbed him with his bayonet. Darcius and I managed to pull Ruby here out, before the spirits could take her too."

Victor hung his head low. "I am sorry for your loss, Madam," he told Ruby – who sniffed and nodded her acknowledgement. Then Victor was distracted by the Scarlet Shadow calling to him.

"Mr Danforth… You did well, getting us past the ghosts in the fog with your faith. Unfortunately, we were not expecting the return of the ghost soldiers. They have not been seen for years. And we are the living souls who eek out the closest to the marsh, so we should know."

"Then…. Then why have they returned now?" Victor hugged himself as he sat sprawled on the ground, gathering his wits.

"Something has stirred them up, Victor. Some dark influence in these parts," Katarina opinioned, still holding onto the tearful Ruby.

"The…Shadow Witch?" Victor ventured.

"Yes… I do believe so. The Shadow Witch." The Scarlet Shadow's expression tightened behind his mask. "Her power is slowing building up again. If no one can stop her in her plans for revenge, the consequences for all of us will be dire!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

Night fell. Victor had helped Jack to gather water and firewood, in order for Jack to boil water for the herbs. By now, Ruby had recovered a little from her grief – enough to assist Jack with treating the wounds that the Scarlet Shadow and Katarina had taken.

The group had moved further into the olde woods, in order to avoid being spotted by the militia if they decided to return to the riverside. And with the evening having descended upon them, Victor shivered – trying to keep himself warm by the fire, as the cawing of crows and the calls of other woodland creatures he could not identify made him jump every now and then.

He wished that he had a travelling blanket with him. None of the outlaws seemed to have one…

Imagining himself to be safely back inside his tavern room, as he tried to distract himself from their sorry situation, Victor followed the rising of the smoke from the camp fire with his eyes. He took in the tall trees around him, and the glimpse of the full moon in the sky beyond them. Well, not quite full. Gibbous, he told himself. It would be full the following night.

Ruby had retreated inside one of the tents the outlaws had erected, in order to sleep. Jack and the Scarlet Shadow were on watch – or had gone to relieve themselves after their meal of the previous hour. For now, there was just himself and the red-headed Katarina, who was gazing into the flickering flames of the fire.

"No…," she muttered.

"Wh-what, Miss Clark?" Victor shook himself away from the image of his comfortable tavern room bed with the candlelight to read by before settling down for sleep. He saw that Katarina was fingering an amulet around her neck – but the rest of her was rigid, barely blinking as if something within the flames had mesmerized…

 _Oh no…,_ Victor realized, remembering the visions the outlaw had experienced in the sealed-off chamber that he had earlier collapsed into, at the Abandoned Fortress. "What…is it?"

"Mon-monsters… A town elder being killed…tonight. A siege of the town. An attack from two armies of monsters… Darcius…! No… _Nnnooo…_!"

Katarina swayed from her cross-legged position and collapsed just before Victor could reach her. He gulped and helped her back up – then poured some of the pre-heated water into a tin cup for her to slowly sip from. She moaned.

"What the…? Did some-thing…happen, to me?"

Victor nodded. "You had visions again, I believe."

"Dear lord… Yes I did…" Katarina clutched her head, and carefully sipped some more water.

"What did you see? What is going to happen, Miss Clark?"

"I saw…too much. I don't know in what order they will happen… Some things are coming soon – other things…are intended to happen later. We can't… We can't stop them all!" she croaked. Katarina's eyes were filled with fear. "Darcius… His life is in danger! I have not told him yet! I wanted to deny the image from earlier – but it has been shown to me again! I must find hi-"

She got up and took a few, faltering steps. Then Victor held her still.

"Steady, Miss Clark… You have had a nasty shock – and you are not walking straight. I am sure that your friend will be back soon! Let him return to us, instead of us wandering in the dark – even with torches!"

She reluctantly nodded.

"Do…? Do you wish to tell me more of what you saw in your visions? From just now – or earlier?" Victor gently encouraged her.

"The people of Shadowbrook are in grave danger, Victor… We are _not_ just dealing with one menace! Even if… Even if we fight off the threats gathering now, more will come in the not so distant future…"

"What th-threats are they, Miss Clark?"

"Couldn't see them all clearly! One that I did see was a being that's responsible for the statues. It killed our men at the fort! Turned them…into statues. And winged creatures… They serve this being…"

"The grotesque things at the manor? I _did_ see the eyes of a third one in the dark that night!"

"Yes – they are…its minions. And this greater being is winged, also. But the Shadow Witch… She is nothing to do with them! She is aware of this winged being and its creatures. She regards them as thorns in her plans…for revenge against the town elders. She has been building up her power for months, and intends to unleash it… From tonight!" Katarina's face was pale. "Two of the town elders are in these woods. The Shadow Witch intends to deal with them, very soon. I saw this earlier. That's why I urged us to get here by nightfall…"

Victor was dumbstruck, as his mind tried to process all that he had just learnt. Then he was distracted by footsteps. Jumping up, he spun round, brandishing a torch from the fire. He let loose a sigh of relief at the same time as Katarina lowered her pistol.

The Scarlet Shadow and Jack had returned.

"You've had more visions, Katarina?" the outlaw leader asked her.

"Yeah I did… What…did you hear, Darcius?" Katarina's lip trembled, Victor noticed.

"The bit about the being that created the statues, onwards," the Shadow declared.

"That's right," Jack confirmed.

Katarina visibly relaxed a bit. "We are dealing with _two_ beings of power, Darcius. But I saw glimpses in the flames of more to come… But we need to concentrate on the _current_ threats that are facing us and everyone in Shadowbrook."

The Shadow folded his arms. "So what must we do now?"

"We must gather our strength and be prepared. Two of the town elders are not far away – and the Shadow Witch has them in her sights." Katarina faced each of the others in turn. "We need to stop whatever she has planned for them!"

The Scarlet Shadow nodded. "You stay with Ruby, Katarina. Us three men will scout out the woods for more firewood – and keep an eye out for anyone else…"

"No! Darcius… Wait! I'll awaken Ruby. Then I'll scout with you," Katarina blurted.

He tilted his face, puzzled. "Is there…something else that we should know, my love?"

"No… It's… We need to stick in pairs! Ruby has her pistol – but we…" She bowed her head. "It's just that I have a bad feeling about this. I want to stay with you."

"Very well… Jack – you stay with Mr Danforth. Do you know how to handle a pistol, playwright?"

Victor eyed the pistol that the Shadow was pointing upwards. He gulped. "Actually, yes I do. I am not fond of them…"

"Take it – and only shoot when you need to. Make sure Jack comes to no harm."

Victor nodded. "Understood." He started to move away with the servant boy – but then Katarina stopped him.

"Mr Danforth… You should have these…" She tossed him a bag of coins.

He opened the bag and counted them. "My…money? You're returning it to me?"

"Call it payment for getting us through the marsh… And, take this runic amulet. I sense that you can make even greater use of it than I," Katarina declared. She took off the metal amulet from around her neck and gave it to the playwright. He saw that it was in the image of the sun, with a man's face in the centre.

"I… Thank you," he said, looking up at Katarina. "You are an honorable thief, after all."

She smiled. "Brave heart to you, Victor. Now go!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Victor and Jack had gathered enough firewood to fill both of Jack's hands, when they found the occupied clearing.

The two scouts kept out of sight, using the tree cover, as Victor kept hold of the loaded pistol. Still, the dozen-or-so inhabitants of the clearing gave no sign that they were aware of the playwright and the servant boy. With the light cast from their campfire, Victor tried to identify those present. Most of them were men – hardy ruffians, judging by their drinking and coarse singing. There was one woman present – a tall, dark-haired beauty, who was sat on one of the crates of boxes present, cradling a wailing baby.

Rubbing her shoulder as he pecked on the cheek, Major Bruckner then walked across to another man, who stood next to a cart, looking ill at ease with the gathered company. The tricorn-hatted man put down his bag and faced the Major.

Victor stifled his gasp of surprise, as he recognized Doctor Theodore Manning.

"I have treated the wound on that thief who you call your man, Major. He will soon fully recover. I trust …that the favor is now paid in full?" Manning spoke evenly – and with, Victor fancied, an air of suppressed anger. His voice carried clearly across to Victor and Jack, who were hidden just within the tree line, close by.

Major Bruckner gave a low chuckle and smiled. It was not a pleasant expression.

"Oh no, Doctor. Your work tonight only covers half of the favor. You see, I know not just the one secret about you…"

"What…are you talking about…?"

"Come, now. It is no use playing innocent with me. You having dealings with the smugglers of Tidewater is one thing…"

Victor heard Manning hiss with frustration. "I told you! They provide me with various medical supplies that I cannot get without long delays from Boston. And your man stole from the smugglers!"

"From now on, if you require smugglers for your medicines, you deal with MY men, doctor! This side of the crossroads is OUR territory… Furthermore, you hiding that disgusting fugitive is another matter that the authorities would also be interested to hear, I am sure," Bruckner smoothly carried on - the hard smile never leaving his face.

"What makes you think that I have…?"

"I make it my business to know everything about you and the other elders of the town, given what you all did to my sister when I was still in the army!" Major Bruckner growled, showing his teeth.

"Your darned sister was…"

"Enough!" Bruckner snapped. "You will now check upon how Ursula and her baby are doing."

Doctor Manning scowled. "A baby that you did not want to be born, remember? Only Ursula was too far pregnant when she was brought to my attention. You try to blackmail me… But I am no idiot, Major. I can tell that baby girl is yours…"

The crack of Bruckner's clenched fist was loud enough for Victor to hear, given that he was hidden behind a tree only a matter of feet away from the two bickering elders. His heart thumping madly, the playwright snatched another peek with one eye. He glimpsed Bruckner taking a slow, menacing step towards Manning. The doctor was tall – but the Major was taller, and he packed more bulk and muscle.

"Do your duty, doctor. Then you can go. Before I lose my patience, and…"

Doctor Manning turned and strode away, his long legs taking him over to the sultry-looking gypsy woman with the baby. She was yelling at it to stop crying. Meanwhile, Bruckner did not pursue Manning – but instead turned, and headed into the line of trees.

With a shared look of alarm between them, Victor and Jack ducked down in-between the clump of trees that they were in. In doing so, Victor bumped his knee against a tree root – but he managed to stifle the cry on his lips. Fortunately, Major Bruckner did not notice them, as he approached the nearby ruins of a cottage, and began to loosen his pants…

"He's doing his business on that old house!" Jack whispered.

"Look away!" Victor hissed back, as he closed his eyes. But as he did so, a feeling of unease crept over him. The runic amulet, given to him by Katarina, seemed to be tingling where it lay against his chest – amplifying his sixth sense. Something else was lurking, and not far away…

"D-do you feel that?" he asked Jack, his voice wavering.

"Um. Feel what?"

"Something…evil. Somewhere nearby. It's getting closer!" He drew in a deep breath to steady himself. "Jack… Keep an eye on Doctor Man-Manning! I'll ch-check on the Major. Both of them could be in danger!"

"Got it, Mr Danforth. I'll arm myself with what I can." Jack nodded and turned away, even as Victor started to sprint for the ruined cottage, not far away…

The yell of the Major reached his ears as the playwright got halfway there.

"No! Nonono…." Victor wailed, summoning up his flagging willpower and forcing himself past the paralysis that had frozen him to the spot. He soon reached the remains of the broken wall, and actually leapt over the low bricks, spurred on the need to honor Katarina's premonition and prevent a man's death – even a ghastly man such as Major Bruckner was proving to be.

Something slammed into one of the other walls, on the other side from Victor. Some broken bricks tumbled down. The Major was yelling both his defiance, and his fear…

"Take this, you freak!"

Victor ran to the other side of the wall, his nose winkling as he caught a whiff of where the Major had urinated. He skidded to a halt and took in the scene within the house ruins, with amazement. Major Bruckner, looking bruised and battered – and bleeding from a gash to the head where he evidently made close contact with a wall in the fighting – had just stuck his dagger into the man who was looming over him. Well, Victor _thought_ it was a man – but that illusion was soon replaced by the reality that the being, dressed in torn rags, was a gray skinned hulk with a fat human-like face, a thick neck, and muscular limbs. One of the blunt fists removed the offending blade from the creature's stomach, which oozed a thick, gray liquid. The intruder looked at the dagger with a dull-witted expression, as though it was some backward child – then the face split into a malevolent, smug grin, as the thing drooled, and threw the blade away. Also, the creature had torn away an amulet that Bruckner had been wearing – and now the amulet lay on the ground, buckled out of shape by the strong grip of the inhuman intruder…

"Huh, huh, huh…! Mistresswontsyu! Youswillserver…," the creature gibbered, slurring its words as it spoke quickly. Then the fist that had impacted with the brick wall was pulled back again for another punch.

Stunned at his impotence, Major Bruckner tried to dodge the incoming attack – but failed. The fist struck his jaw and sent him flying into the empty fireplace, where his head struck the bricks at the base of the cottage's chimney. He did not move any further.

"Jack!" Victor yelled. "Anyone! _Help_!" With shaking hands, he managed to raise the pistol and took aim as the mutated creature shuffled round to face him and took slow, ponderous steps in his direction. Some instinct inside of Victor told him that his enemy was only not human, it had _never_ been human. It was, he felt, a lesser demon…

 _Boom!_

The bullet pierced the chest of the thing. A trickle of the gray blood gushed forth. But the inhuman assailant only paused, and sniggered. Then it moved its bare, heavy, misshapen feet again. Then before, Victor's disbelieving eyes, a ghostly green image that could have been human detached itself from the monster. It drifted across to the slumped, unmoving Major, and then sank into his body.

He thought he heard a gloating laugh just before the spectral glow disappeared. It sounded like a wo-

"Youswontstopwotskoming…, poonyhuman!" the demon mocked him.

"Oh, mercy me!" Victor's mind raced. He backed away as he reloaded. His wide eyes glanced around. The Major had taken a lantern with him when he came to the cottage to relive himself – and now it lay at the base of the wall to his left…

With a cry, Victor turned and ran for the lantern – adrenalin pushing him on before he stopped to question what he was doing. Ducking to avoid the swipe of the fiend's hand, he then picked up the lantern and spun round to smash the glass against the being's chest. It grunted as it staggered back from the close-contact blow, and tumbled down to the debris-littered floor of the building. Only a bare flicker of flame remained, as the remains of the candle rolled off the demon's chest.

Then, backing away, Victor took a deep breath, and a steady aim. He fired his reloaded pistol at the oil on the monster's skin…

BOOM!

The demon wailed as it was suddenly lit up in flames. The thing tried to get upon its feet, but failed. Instead, the bloated figure rolled over back and forth, in an attempt to extinguish the fire. The roasted stench of inhuman flesh filled the air, and the creature started to crawl towards him.

"Youswillsuvverforvis…, poonyhu- _Aagghh!_ "

Gagging, Victor tossed aside his pistol and stumbled over to the fireplace – which he could barely make out in the flickering light from the pyre of the dying demon. Finding the unconscious Major too heavy to lift around his head and shoulders, he managed instead to drag him away by pulling on his arms.

His heart pounding with the fear that the gibbering evil fiend would pull him down as it burnt to death, Victor strained himself. Taking slow steps backwards, he dragged Major Bruckner out of the ruined cottage bit by bit. He saw the demon collapse into the base of a wall at the edge of the cottage – which promptly caused the wall to collapse and bury the dying monster in a rain of old bricks.

Victor paused to gather his breath. Seeing that the danger was over, he began to relax. He heard footsteps approaching him.

"Jack! Quick! Help me carry the Major to his party of m-"

"That won't be necessary. We'll take over, mister!" the thug declared in a surly voice as he stepped into Victor's sight – the man's dagger pointed towards the playwright's neck. Victor froze, and then slowly craned his face round to see the three other members of Major Bruckner's party. One of them was holding his hand over the mouth of the captive Jack.

"Ahh… Um." Victor's throat had just turned very dry. "I say… I have…just rescued your boss, you must know."

The scarred thug with the dagger stared with shock at the face of the dead demon – the only part of it not buried by the collapsed wall. Its body was melting rapidly. Then the ruffian turned back to face Victor, narrowing his eyes against the lantern that was being held by the gypsy woman Ursula.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, mister!" Ursula hissed, glancing down at her still-unconscious lover, Major Bruckner.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

Inspector Cooke watched Harlow Morgan carefully as he explained each of his budding inventions, whilst running through the bric 'n' brac in his warehouse. He had managed to persuade the short Welshman to aid him – despite Harlow's muttered desire to see to pressing business elsewhere. When Cooke had pressed him as the nature of the said business, Harlow had just commented along the lines of "Oh, nothing of importance, Inspector. Just people to meet."

But underneath the inventor's obvious enthusiasm for his work – and despite Cooke's growing conviction that the man would get more success out of his erratic projects if he would only concentrate upon one at a time, instead of working on several in any given day – Inspector Cooke was becoming sure that something was amiss. Harlow was too twitchy…

"I will take a vial of acid, if I may, Mr Morgan. Your spare net gun may be useful, also," the Inspector declared.

"Oh…! Oh, very well. Just what is it you are expecting to fight, Inspector – may I ask?"

"You may…" Cooke weighed the net gun that had just been handed to him. "I had thought that I came to Shadowbrook to deal with the ravages of a wild animal – or the work of a dangerous lunatic. But firstly there were those devilish winged creatures…"

"The bodies of which are currently here, Inspector, as per your orders…"

"Indeed. Now… Now I have been convinced that there is even more to this. As much as it pains me to say it, there are supernatural forces at work, Mr Morgan." He looked directly at the older man. "I suppose that as a man of science, you would not believe me…"

Harlow paused in his rubbing of his spectacles against his work apron. He tilted his round face at an angle to his guest. "I…I am receptive to any theory as to the horrors afflicting this town."

"Very well. It seems that the fears regarding the Shadow Witch were well-founded. I believe that at least some of the recent…troubles…are her doing. But I need to find Major Bruckner! I am worried…that he will soon be involved in trouble."

"The Major…?" Harlow flinched. "Surely he would be at his farm, sooner or later?"

"He was not there, when my…assistants…and I visited his farm. And I have not yet received word that he has arrived back."

"That is…interesting…," Harlow muttered – then he was distracted by the knock of the front door of the warehouse.

Upon Harlow's 'Enter!' the militiaman who had been posted outside opened the door. Squeezing through the gap, Isabella von Took and Anne Marie Piaget slipped by. They were carrying a sack between them.

"These ladies say they are reporting to you, Inspector Cooke," the militiaman announced.

"That they are. Thank you." Cooke nodded. "Remain outside, soldier."

"Sir!" The militiaman clicked his heels and headed back out, closing the door behind him.

The women started to walk forward – but halted as Inspector Cooke urged them to stop. He held out his hand.

"No! Don't step onto that rug!"

"Wh-?" Anne Marie's eyes widened.

"Oh, dear dear me! I forgot," Harlow declared, as he rubbed his hands in agitation. "Yes – please avoid stepping onto that rug. You see, it's covering up a pit trap which I've made. I did warn the Inspector here, when he arrived."

"You are…expecting intruders, Mr Morgan?" Isabella asked him.

"Well… I do have valuable, rare equipment here, Madam von Took. I am rather afraid of burglars…" Harlow rubbed one side of his thick mutton-chop beard.

Carefully taking care to walk into the workshop by edging around the innocuous-looking rug, the ladies joined the two men. Dropping the sack at their feet, Isabella started pulling out pistols to distribute to Anne Marie and the Inspector, whilst keeping one for herself. Meanwhile, the school teacher was looking around the workshop with keen interest, appreciating the charts and records that were hanging on one wall. There was one with a table of known elements, gases and metals. Another – set above a desk where a small telescope was placed, gave dates for the phases of the moon. Another record listed the dates that were best for viewing the planets. Underneath the telescope there was a laid out old map of Shadowbrook and the surrounding countryside.

"Here you go, Inspector Cooke," said Isabella. "Anne Marie was good enough to lend me some money, whilst she did some research. Here is the silver shot – again to be used between us…"

"Silver shot…?" Harlow whispered. "Why have you…?"

Cooke turned to face him, and saw that the inventor's face had turned pale. "We believe that it will be needed, Mr Morgan. Now, Anne Marie…," the Inspector continued, now switching his attention to her as he began loading his pistol with the silver shot – as did the ladies. "Anything to report?"

"Oui, Inspector!" the teacher beamed with pride. "I asked myself where I could find any factual evidence regarding this…Shadow Witch…who went by ze name of Elaine Bartlett. And I decided to approach the Reverend Harding for information."

"Ahh… Of course!" Cooke snapped his fingers. "The parish records!"

" _Exactement_. But ze Reverend wanted a contribution to the 'upkeep of ze church' for me to view ze records… Nevertheless, Reverend Harding told me about Elaine Bartlett's history as a suspected witch – and 'ow she was arrested for ze murders by witchcraft of several people, including her husband, Ellis Bartlett. Now hear zis!" Anne Marie's expression grew more animated. "Ze Reverend keeps notes on other records and newspaper accounts in a ledger, which he keeps with him. Elaine was born and raised in a nearby parish – where, when she was not yet eighteen; there was a spate of livestock deaths. Cows and goats were torn apart – as if by wolves! But when sighted, ze wolves were larger than ze usual gray wolves. Although it was never proven, Harding suspects that Elaine and her brother were involved in witchcraft then…"

"Her brother…?" Cooke raised his eyebrow.

"Oui. Her brother." Anne Marie's expression had now turned solemn. "He is now Major Lucien Bruckner. Ze Shadow Witch was born as Elaine Bruckner!"

"My god…! And this man could turn against the township. He would have been in the army when his sister was hanged for witchcraft…"

"He would have motive to kill each of the town elders for their part in sealing his sister's fate." Isabella considered, tapping her chin. "They must have had some hold on him, to prevent him from taking revenge on them already... Unless he has some hold on _them_? Did he still love his sister, when she was hung?"

"Ze Reverend told me, after he had drunk ze brandy I gave him, that Major Bruckner was distraught at the death of Elaine," Anne Marie confirmed. "But is the Major a…warlock? Or a loup-garou? Or bo-"

The schoolteacher fell abruptly silent, as the sound of ripping cloth filled the air of the candle-lit warehouse. The four people spun round and tried to identify where amongst the clutter the noise had come from…

"Wher-?" Isabella exclaimed.

"There!" Harlow pointed at the cloth-shrouded form in one corner. A pair of gray hands emerged from the tear in the fabric and widened the gap, making the ruined cloth fall to the floor.

The statue of Samuel Shaw slowly turned its head to regard the stunned humans in the warehouse. The eyes of the former farm worker glowed with an eerie white light. There was a slight grinding noise as the statue moved.

Then the living statue grinned, exposed stony teeth. It raised its arms, and began taking slow, heavy steps forward as it sought out a target which it could throttle to death…

Anne Marie screamed. Isabella dropped her half-loaded pistol in her shock. Inspector Cooke spluttered with disbelief. Whilst Harlow Morgan gave vent with words that spoke for all of them.

"Oh my, I had no idea it was going to do that!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

 **Feeding Ground**

 **The Olde Woods:**

Amongst the camp, upon a blanket close to the fire, Major Bruckner had been laid out by his gang. He was still unconscious, and the gypsy woman called Ursula was watching him with agitation – as Doctor Manning was ordered by her to administer treatment to her lover.

"I have done what I can for now. He only took a blow to the head, and should be waking up before soon, madam!" Looking across from the glaring Ursula, Manning focused his attention upon the captive Victor and Jack. Both of them were being held at gunpoint, forced to lie down on their knees and hold their clasped hands pressed to the tops of their heads. "What manner of creature did this, again, Mr Danforth?" the doctor asked him.

"It was a demon of some sort, I feel certain of this, doctor!" Victor blurted. "It spoke too fast. Gibbered. "Said something like: _'Mistresswontsyu! Youswillserver'_ to Bruckner. And… And there was a ghost! It came out of the creature…- and, and it sank into Major Bruckner!"

"A ghost?" Ursula sneered. "Have you been dreaming of Hamlet, playwright?"

But Doctor Manning took him more seriously. "What ghost? Describe it, man!"

Victor sweated. "Um… It was tall and slender. And…it laughed before vanishing. Yes! I remember. It was a woman's laughter. Gleeful laughter…"

" ' _Mistresswontsyu'_?" Jack muttered, frowning. "Could that be 'Mistress wants you'? That demon was serving a lady ghost?"

"' _Youswillserver'…'Youswontstopwotskoming'_ ," Victor replied to himself the words the demon had blurted. "It must have meant 'You will serve her'… You won't stop what's coming…"

"No…! Dear god, no…"

Victor looked up, to see Doctor Manning seemly on the verge of fainting. "What is it, doctor?!"

Manning glanced down at the unconscious Major Bruckner, before raising his gray eyes to face Victor. "Elaine Bartlett! Curse her damned soul! She has somehow clung onto life and built up her magic! If she's was able to possess a lesser demon, as your account suggests, then she has come for her brother!"

"Her…brother?" Victor repeated. He shot his eyes down at Bruckner. "The Major?"

"Yes! Elaine Bartlett – the Shadow Witch who was the scourge of this township over a year ago. She was born Elaine Bruckner!" the doctor spat.

Ursula hissed. "Lucien is mine! No ghost – or witch – will take him from m-"

She was cut off by the sudden howling of wolves in the night air.

"Good lord! That sounds close!" Victor exclaimed, dropping his hands from his head as he shot his wide eyes around.

Immediately, the gang of thugs and smugglers galvanized themselves into action.

"There's a pack of them! All around us!" one of them yelled.

"They're changing in! Shoot at 'em. An' grab firebrands!" the second-in-command snapped at them. "Wortner and Worboys – you guard his nibs's mistress!"

"Sure thing, Mr Lexington," the duo shot back.

And with that, they hurried into action. Meanwhile, Wortner and Worboys remained with Ursula and her baby – to keep watch over Doctor Manning, Victor and Jack.

Victor ran his clammy hand across his sweat-drenched forehead. Where were the outlaws? They would have noticed that he and Jack were missing by now… Surely?

Jack abruptly yanked on his shoulder. "Mr Danforth! Look!" He pointed at the Major, whose body was now convulsing. The man grunted.

Ursula screamed, and almost dropped her torch. "Do something, doctor!"

"Right! Mr Danforth. Jack. Help me restrain him…"

But even as the pair aided Doctor Manning, Bruckner's body twisted as shots and wolf cries rang out in the background of the night-shrouded woods. Then his fine clothes abruptly ripped, revealing a chest that was sprouting a pale-brown dusting of hairs that were spreading out in a wave across his arms and neck. By the light of the fire and Ursula's torch, Bruckner's skin, muscles, and his very skeleton seemed to be undergoing some metamorphosis. A healed bite mark, just above his left hip was revealed – just before it became covered up by the emergent fur…

The Major's grunts began to turn into snarls. His bones 'cracked', realigned, and settled into new positions. The shoes burst apart – and clawed, animal-like feet kicked their way out of the ruined leathers. Meanwhile his hands changed into clawed, half-paws. Bruckner's jaw 'crunched' as it was forced forward at the same time as his ears noticeably elongated towards the top of his reshaping head, turning pointed in the process. His nose turned dark, leathery, and wet.

Bruckner's eyes snapped open. The brown orbs were now turning yellow in the light of the camp fire, before Victor's frightened gaze. The man's convulsions then ceased, and he flexed his firmer, fur-coated muscles. He snarled again, this time louder – and his parted black lips revealed the sharp, drooling fangs, as Victor, Jack, and Manning all let go of him and backed away.

Ursula screamed. This time she did drop her torch.

"Werewolf bite!" Doctor Manning cried out, pointing at the Major's hip. "Don't let him bite or scrat-"

"Shurrt upp…," Bruckner growled. He moved with surprising swiftness, rolling over, then lashing out with a half-paw – punching the doctor in the cheek with such force that the bespectacled man was sent flying into the nearest tree. An instant later, the Major pulled himself up upon his balled rear paws as a fully-fledged tan-colored wolf man, his just-grown lupine tail twitching behind him. Grinning, he howled to the gibbous moon in the sky above. The wolf pack answered.

"Get the doctor, Jack!" Victor cried out. He and the servant boy helped Manning to his feet as they retreated a few yards, with Victor grabbing the torch Ursula had dropped as they did so. In the meantime, Ursula – still holding onto her baby daughter – collapsed onto her knees in shock. The two armed thugs finally broke out of their stupor and fired at their leader-turned-werewolf. But before the bullets could hit the chest of their target, they were both dissolved by a glow of red light.

"What in the devil's name!?"

Bruckner sniggered. A human voice came from the open lupine mouth. _"No._ Our _name. The name of Bruckner. I have been joined again with my brother – and we shall have our revenge against the town that sentenced me to death!" There was another snigger. "A werewolf tried to kill my brother. He failed. But now I consequently have a stronger champion for my possession. A champion who will embrace me – for he shares the many of the same hates as I do…"_

"No… The Shadow Witch…!" one of the thugs whimpered. It was the shorter, fatter one of the pair.

"Correct, Worboys. Now decide…, do either of you wish to live – or do you want to serve as food for the wolves?" the possessed Bruckner snarled.

Whilst Worboys backed away in fear, the braver Wortner quickly pulled out a piece of burning firewood from the nearby flames and swung it at the wolf man as he gave a battle cry. Bruckner snarled and ducked the attack, landing on all fours. Then, he bounded aside and twisted round – clawing at the thug's legs before he could recover from his clumsy follow-up with his improvised torch. Wortner screamed and fell down. He reached for his dropped torch – but Bruckner jumped upon him, and bit him in the arm. The thug gave a piercing cry of agony.

Worboys grabbed an ax and ran over to the still-screaming Ursula, ready to defend her. The baby too, was now crying in fear.

"Get out of here, all of you!" Victor yelled to them. Then he and Jack were running as fast as they could, holding onto the semi-conscious Doctor Manning – who seemed groggy and was struggling to put his own feet down in tandem with them. Around them, the members of Bruckner's gang were screaming for their lives as the timber wolves attacked as an organized pack. Pausing as they reached the tree line, Victor swept his frightened gaze around the clearing, and saw some of the swift-moving wolves being shot by the more-skilled shooters of the gang, as well as a few howling their death cries upon being engulfed in flames after successful strikes by the firebrands. But greater in number were the men screaming as they were dived upon by the snarling animals, prior to having their throats torn out.

"It's a massacre, Mr Danforth!" Jack panted. "But the wolves around 'ere.., I've never seen or heard of them being so…savage. Not to people! It ain't natural!"

"Shadow Witch's work… It has to be…," Doctor Manning groaned, as he too saw and heard the outcome of the fighting for himself. "Now…where are you taking me?"

"Back to our camp! Quickly, Jack – into the woods!"

But the three of them had only managed to slip past the first line of trees, before they came to a halt. The tall, gnarled tree in front of them had somehow grown a pair of eyes – eyes that blazed towards the little party with an unearthly yellow light in the dusk. Next, there was the groaning of wood as the bark just below the eyes split open into a wide mouth, filled with sharp wooden fangs.

More creaking followed. Heart pounding madly in his chest, Victor slowly glanced around, to see two more trees – one on either side of them – splitting on the bark to each form a pair of amber eyes and fanged maws. All bearing an expression of fury. Then the three trees somehow uprooted themselves from the ground and advanced towards the unarmed Victor, Jack, and Doctor Manning, the thicker branches swinging their way…

"Dear Lord…," Victor whispered, too stunned to say anything else.

"Um… Can we race back for the ax that man had…?" Jack suggested hopefully. He looked towards the gang's camp, only to stiffen as a man yell out and then violently scream out from that direction.

"That…that sounds like the voice of the man who was guarding the lady," Victor muttered as he held their torch aloft with sweat-drenched figures. "The man who's ax we would like to have, right now…"

"So what do we do now, Mr Danforth? We have no weapons…" Jack's voice shook.

The angry-looking trees came closer, their sprayed out roots before them digging into new ground, prior to pulling themselves forward – only to pull out of the earth again and repeat the process of gradual movement…

"Um… Um…," Victor stammered. "Keep back!" He jabbed the torch forward, making the trees pause. Then the branches of two of the living trees swung at them, in an attempt to send the torch flying out of the playwright's grasp. Quickly, Victor swung the torch round to defend his party – and the ends of the nearest branch caught alight.

The living tree gave a screech, and shook itself in its pain. But then the thick branch of the other tree whipped round and clipped Victor, sending him flying aside. He hit the ground, and rolled over, groaning – but aware that it could have been worse. The torch fell into a bush and set it alight. Now it was difficult to retrieve, Jack realized.

He and Doctor Manning saw the living trees grin evilly, before advancing again…

"Hold on!"

Victor and Jack looked across to where the commanding voice had come from. Before their startled eyes, the Scarlet Shadow appeared as if from thin air besides one of the living trees, one hand clenched around an amulet that had just stopped glowing. His other hand brandished a torch.

"How di-," Victor spluttered.

"Magical amulet of invisibility, Mr Danforth!" the Shadow cried out with glee. "It only works for several minutes at a time, though. Allows me to move quite a distance - like a shadow. And I couldn't use it at the marsh, earlier - because there was no time to invoke the incantation on it!"

The living tree strained to turn towards the new intruder.

"Well then… Let's be dealing with you, minion of Elaine Bartlett!" the Shadow declared. Ducking to avoid the branch whizzing across to swat him, he rammed his torch right into the mouth of the magically-wrapped tree. It immediately screamed – the branches whipping frantically at the air around it. Then the Shadow pulled the torch out of the wooden mouth and used it to further injure the tree with the flames.

In the next instant, Katarina Clark cried out as she emerged from the top of a nearby rise. She fired his pistol at another of the living trees – then, with a battle cry, she charged into the fighting, swinging her own torch before her with childish excitement.

Then there was the sound of howling, close by. Victor, Jack, Katarina, and the Scarlet Shadow all stopped and turned to see the tall, broad-chested wolf man that was Major Bruckner at the edge of the clearing. But on either side of the others, were two other, stooped wolf men.

By the flickering flames of the torches and the burning, wailing living tree, Victor and the others could see that the two smaller wolf men still bore the ripped remains of their clothing. Victor recognized the coloring on both of them. One was the apparent second-in-command of the gang – Lexington had been his name, Victor reminded himself. The other was the recently-bitten Wortner.

"Oh…! Holy mother.. NO!" He warned the outlaws. "Not only has the Major become a werewolf…, he has started to infect his own men!"

The transformed Major Bruckner turned his lupine face towards Victor, and snarled. "It seems that you are a clever man… So I will give you a choice, you fat oik who interfered with me at the manor! Surrender and give me Doctor Manning, and you will live. If you refuse me, you will die…!"

"Well… This just got interesting!" Katarina gave a hard grin at Victor and her fellow outlaws. Her expression then turned sober. "The visions…they're starting to become reality!"

"So what do we need to do now, love?" the Shadow asked her.

"Don't let them take Manning, for starters!" Katarina called back.

Bruckner snarled at his feral kin. "Lexington! Wortner! Bring me Doctor Manning. Slaughter the rest as you see fit! The living trees will help you!"

The two wolf men yelped their compliance – and then bounded towards Victor and the three members of the outlaw clan.

"Take cover!" the Scarlet Shadow yelled out.

The next minute or so was chaotic mayhem, with the darkness of the woods lit up only by the light of the torches and the burning barks of the screeching living trees. The eyes of the lesser wolf men flashed yellow in the firelight.

Still without a weapon, Victor decided to hide instead by running further into the woods. As he stopped behind a sturdy (thankfully non-animated tree), he panted and tried to steady his labored breathing. Tried to think through his next move. He felt bad about fleeing from the others – but what could he do without a weapon…?

Before long, there was movement. With the gibbous moon above now shining clear of the evening's clouds, Victor glanced out from behind his tree – to see the Scarlet Shadow and Katarina running, carrying Doctor Manning between them. He could hear Katarina sobbing.

"No time for that, love! We can't help Jack now!" the Scarlet hissed at her.

"We've lost him! And you've lost that amulet, Darcius!"

"Yes, darned it! Bruckner came for me, himself! He's too fast – but I managed to get him away from Manning… No! Don't let the doctor go. Let's get him back to the camp, where Ruby is…"

"Mr Danforth…!" Katarina protested.

"He ran off! He can do what he likes, as far as I'm concerned!" the Shadow snapped. Then the two outlaws were gone, swallowed up by the shadows of the deeper woods.

 _Oh, lord… What do I do now!?_ Victor asked himself, as his heart and breathing began to return to a more normal level. Or as normal as his nerves would allow him.

But as he listened, his amazement grew. There was no sound of the pursuing wolf men, no heavy dragging of the animated trees.

Curiosity gnawed at him. What had happened to Jack?

With the aid of the moonlight, Victor decided to take a risk – and retrace his steps. He had found Jack to be a friendly, likeable lad. And if he wasn't dead, then maybe he could redeem himself by rescuing the boy. At least Doctor Manning had survived so far, after all, thanks to himself and the servant boy…

The burning of the living trees guided him back to the scene of the fighting. All three of the animated horrors were alight and swiveling in the burning heat. One of the smaller wolf men, Wortner, was also being consumed by the flames. He was spread-eagled on the bush where Victor had lost his torch. Blood had oozed out of a gunshot to his chest, but the werewolf was still alive – just. His nose twitched, and he saw Victor approaching. One forepaw was raised – as if begging to be pulled free of his funeral pyre by the stunned playwright.

Then the creature croaked his last, and he slumped down – lost to his fate.

Victor turned away in disgust, realizing what had happened. One of the outlaws – The Scarlet Shadow he sensed - had shot the wolf men, sending him flying into the burning bush. And yet Bruckner and the other wolf man had abandoned him…

 _I understood wolves to be animals that looked out for each other… And yet, these werewolves do not…_

 _Where are the other fiends, anyway?_

Victor stopped to think. The invisibility charm… The Scarlet Shadow had lost it during the fighting, when Bruckner had got close to him…

After a minute of searching, with the light of the fires to guide him, Victor saw the amulet. It lay in a dip, underneath the toppled-over trunk of one of the living trees. The fire had not quite got as far as the part nearest to the trinket…

Gulping, Victor got onto his knees, and slowly, carefully shuffled his way underneath the still branches – feeling the heat of the fire as it gradually crept closer to where he was now stretched out on the ground, hand straining to grab hold of the amulet.

 _If I could just reach…_

Victor moaned, feeling the edges of the branch cutting into his clothes. He pushed himself further, until finally…

"Got it!" he gasped.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

The statue of Samuel Shaw took slow, but deliberate, heavy steps towards them all. Then Isabella dived upon the floor to retrieve her dropped pistol, and readied it, before firing – aiming at its face.

"You intent to kill us, man of stone? I think not!" the noblewoman remarked coolly.

The shot struck the advancing statue, but it only clipped the arm that had swatted the bullet.

"Wait!" Anne Marie summoned up her courage and took a pace forward as she addressed the statue. "Ar-are you still…Samuel Shaw? Wh-what do you want?"

But the statue was silent as it continued to advance.

"Keep it focused on you!" Harlow cried out, as he made a dash for his workbench of chemicals…

The statue turned its head and bared its teeth at the panicking inventor, as he fumbled. Suddenly, it began moving again – its pace now somehow faster as its stony frame continued to grate with each stride.

"It's intelligent!" Anne Marie blurted. "It's identified…"

"…that Mr Morgan can do something to it. So let us slow it down!" Inspector Cooke answered back. "If bullets cannot stop it, grab something around you that will!"

And so they improvised. The next half-minute or so was chaotic, as Anne Marie and Cooke moved to either side of the statue in half-tandem and used various items against it as weapons – the unlit Bunsen burner, a stool (which broke into pieces against the statue), and the barrels of their pistols. In return, the living statue punched anyone who got too close – and it soon managed to seize Inspector Cooke's arm with a crushing grip. Before he knew it, Cooke found himself on his knees – with both of the gray hands now tightening their cold, unyielding grasp around his neck…

He began to choke as his own hands failed to prise apart the statue's grip on him. The room started to blur.

Anne Marie screamed.

Then Harlow Morgan smashed a vial over the back of the statue's head. Smoke rose from the impact. Cooke detected an acrid stench.

 _Acid…,_ he realized.

He opened his clenched eyes. With amazement, he felt the living statue's grip on his neck lessen – just enough for him and Anne Marie to have a chance at breaking the monstrosity's hold on him. The expression on the statue's face had changed. It was now locked in an unending scream of silence, as the acid slowly dissolved the back of its head.

"Take cover!" Isabella yelled as she raised the hunting rifle into position.

With a hard yank, Anne Marie pulled Cooke free, and they fell down. Harlow Morgan also flung himself clear, as the statue tried to decide which target to pursue.

BANG!

The shot blasted the weakened head into pieces. The remainder of the statue wavered on its legs for a moment – before crashing down onto one of the storage benches. Inspector Cooke and Anne Marie rolled aside before they could be crushed by the falling clutter and the smoking pieces of the now not-so-living statue.

For several seconds, nobody moved. They were all reeling, and recovering, from the encounter.

"Oh dear! I hope that…nobody was struck by the acid?" Harlow called out.

The others all replied in the negative. Then Cooke forced himself to rise to his full height, before helping Anne Marie up. Isabella, wanting the same attention from the Inspector, had to be content with Harlow coming to her assistance, instead.

"What is…behind zis…devilry?" Anne Marie asked, speaking for all four of them.

"I do not know. But it seems that that soldier, Harrison, was correct," Cooke replied. "He told me that the statues were the missing people turned to stone. And now…is the other also alive?"

"The one you saw outside of the windmill, you mean, Insp-," Isabella found herself cut off, as Captain Townsend and the militia guard burst into the warehouse. The Captain was bleeding from a cut to his cheekbone. Both men were wide-eyed and gasping from exertion.

"Captain? Wh-?"

"Inspector Cooke! Those creatures that were killed at Hanbrook Manor… There are more of them – in the sky above the town," Townsend panted. "They are swooping down…and clawing the citizens at random! We are all under attack!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

The next stage tested Victor's courage further. He had examined the amulet. By the light of the nearest burning tree he had seen the Latin inscription – and he counted himself fortunate that he was able to read Latin.

Victor offered a quick prayer to God and the Holy mother as he fingered his rosary. Then he read allow the inscription, which translated as 'No one and nothing shall detect me'. Immediately, he felt a peculiar tingling sensation sweep through him.

Hearing growling and a woman's cries, he hurried over to the edge of the clearing, where Bruckner's gang had set up their smuggler's camp. What he saw there, made him run in fright to the cover of a nearby oak tree – from which he peeked around, to take in fully the ghastly developments. He was also close enough to listen to what he was about to learn. The fighting around the now-wrecked camp was over. The fire pit was still smoldering, though the tents were shredded – as if someone amongst the thugs had run into them to find something to defend themselves with, only to be dragged out again by the clamping grip of lupine fangs.

There were a few wolves lying still on the ground – dead from pistol fire or dagger thrusts. But outnumbering them were several ruffians and also a couple of women who Victor had earlier spied drinking and laughing with the gang members. Currently, most of the dead human bodies were being torn apart by the timber wolves. There was already a trail of bones in one area, near to the river, where the gore had been splashed onto the immediate trees and rocks.

As for the other human bodies…

Victor gulped. In spite of the amulet, he felt…unsafe, having glimpsed the feeding ground. The remaining four, untouched corpses of the thugs had been gathered together at the focal point of the present scene of the action. Looking down at the bodies with hunger, two of the wolf men creatures were holding Jack and Ursula captive.

His arms held tightly behind his back, Jack shot his head round at as Victor stifled his cry of alarm and accidently kicked a small stone. Immediately, the largest, tan-colored, more-muscular wolf man raised his gore-stained muzzle from the man he was eating, which was Worboys. Victor saw Bruckner's lupine face whip round to face him. He sniffed, but - after several moments when the paralyzed Victor feared that his end was upon him – Bruckner faced his captive audience again.

And through it all, Victor realized that Ursula's baby was not screaming. Instead, he spied the still form of the baby girl on the ground next to Ursula – the shawl it had been wrapped in was stained red in the moonlight…

 _The amulet works…,_ a part of Victor comprehended with relief – even as he wiped away the budding tears in his eyes over the baby's fate. _Jack heard the stone that I kicked – but Bruckner could not smell me, so he dismissed the thought of a watcher!_

 _If I can hold my nerve and cunning, I just might live…_

"Silence, girl!" Bruckner barked at the wailing Ursula. "And you pair – Lexington, Nixon – stop slobbering! You will get to feed soon enough…"

"What's exactly has happened to you, Major?" Jack yelled, straining to free himself from the wolf man that was digging its claws into his wrists.

Bruckner licked the gore from his blood-stained fangs with relish, and replied. Despite his metamorphosis, his voice was rough, but still clear enough. It conveyed power and authority.

"My sister has made me her host for her undying spirit. And she has, in the process, used her magic to accelerate the oncoming transformation that I did not realize was soon to befall me."

"You were bitten by a werewolf…," Jack deduced.

"Yes… Three nights ago, at the nearby crossroads," Bruckner elaborated. "My sister's spirit was watching at the time, in secret. She saw this werewolf attacking me and my group of men. It seems that we were targeted for death, because we were having our fun with a peasant woman." The lycanthropic Major snorted. "A werewolf playing at being a shepherd of humans! When I find him, I will teach him who is the more worthy recipient of our blessed nature…!"

"Who…is he?" Jack pressed him.

Bruckner scowled. "Neither I nor my sister know. Yet. It must be someone living close by."

 _Jack suspects I am here!_ The thought struck Victor. _He is questioning Bruckner, so that I can listen, learn, and…and get away. For me to warn the township…!_

"Your sister possessed you, Lucien… And you accept what she has forced upon you?" Ursula sobbed, diverting Victor from his thoughts.

Bruckner gave a chilling lupine grin.

"Oh yes, my dear. This is not the first time we've played at being wolves…," he replied mysteriously. "But my sweet sister's spirit has come into her full power, after building up her strength for the past year. Now that she has fully utilized the abilities of the Delion Dryad, which she gained from her victory over that inferior wrench, my sister is now able to possess certain beings. She was in control of the gibbering horror that attacked me – and now she is within me. My dear Elaine has made my mind, as well as my body, more powerful. Together…, together we will take our joint revenge upon Shadowbrook and its hypocritical town elders. Before the Other being tries to take over the town with its minions…"

"The…Other being?" Jack repeated, in alarm.

Bruckner waved a dismissive half-paw. "No matter. Our own army shall meet that of the Other. And the people of Shadowbrook will be caught in the middle… If they are wise, they will join our army, our pack. Otherwise, they will die…

"Your pack… No!" Jack squirmed, still unable to free himself. Straining his neck round, he yelled to the wolf men holding him and Ursula captive. "This is madness! Why don't you men speak up for yourselves?"

"My feral kin are unable to communicate in the human tongue anymore, it seems." Bruckner grinned. "The magic of my sister – potent as it is – is designed to make them not as powerful as me, but instead as loyal slaves… And now, let us deal with you two. You boy… You are a servant to the Scarlet Shadow, yes? What has he and your party been doing, whilst spying on me? Where would they be taking the doctor? Hmm?" Bruckner grasped hold of Jack's collar bone – making him cry out in agony

"You won't get anything out of me…, mister!" he gasped.

Bruckner barked a harsh laugh. "Don't be so stupid. Yes I will. You saw what I did to Lexington and Nixon here. Once my sister has extended her magic to include you, your mind will be as an open book to her…"

"No! Don't, mister! We came to save you and the doc…," Jack exclaimed.

"I do not need…saving…from anything. As for the doctor, I believe I managed to scratch him – like I have scratched and bitten you pair, boy. And now, my sister believes that your small size and local knowledge of the area's shortcuts will be to our advantage – so from this moment on you will act as a servant boy to _us_. Hold him still, Nixon!"

Jack screamed, before the wolf man that was Nixon clamped his half-paw over the lad's mouth.

"Prepare yourself for my sister's…dark seduction." Bruckner licked his fangs and tore away Jack's already-shredded jacket and shirt with his half-paws, to expose the claw and bite marks around the young man's collar bone. Then a red glow of energy was emitted from Bruckner's foreclaws, as he used them to clasp Jack's shoulder. The magic was transmitted to the terrified lad – who then collapsed upon the ground, convulsing wildly. He hollered in agony.

Ursula screamed in turn, making Bruckner's lupine ears twitch.

"Silence, Ursula! Yes – it hurts. But not for long. And soon this boy will feel stronger and more alive than he has ever been!"

Victor watched the scene unfolding before him, transfixed with horror. He had wanted to save Jack – and although he could now see the ax on the ground, in the clearing, close to the wolf men, he was still afraid of getting too close to the gathered company. Maybe none of them would be able to detect him – but Victor suspected that neither was he a ghost to them. If one of the wolf men accidently brushed against him… Well, they only had to surround and grab him. Then their claws and teeth would do their damage. Even with an ax, three of them against one man, who was unused to fighting. Victor shook his head. Not good odds.

And what was happening to Jack? The young man had apparently broken out into a fever, crying out as he thrashed and kicked out on the ground in the moonlight. From his hiding place, yards away, Victor saw Jack's clothes tear apart as his body _changed_ rapidly. His exposed body was undergoing a metamorphosis – with his skeleton, and muscles apparently contorting and realigning. Then the boy's skin become engulfed by a growing, rolling, wave of dark hairs which joined up to become a pelt of fur. Jack's hands turned into clawed half-paws. His face twisted, _crunched_ , and reshaped into a muzzled visage identical to the wolf men behind him as his human hair changed and merged into his new cranial fur – and his ears lengthened and became pointed…

Within the minute, it was done. Jack lay on the ground, gasping. Then, at a snarl and a kick from Bruckner, the servant boy slowly rose and found his balance as he stood upon the balls of his rear paws, as a young, dark-furred, feral kin – thin and slightly-stooped like Lexington and Nixon. His new tail curling behind his legs, Jack whined and bowed his head to Bruckner, acknowledging him as his pack leader.

Ursula tried to scream – but Lexington already was pressing his half-paw over her mouth.

Bruckner grinned at her. "And now for you, my lover. Whilst I hated the girl you gave me – once my sister and I have had our vengeance, and secured our own territory, we will both gladly mate again. Your loyalty will be to me, and you will be dedicated to the survival of our pack, our race, Ursula!" And with that, he clasped her with both of his half-paws on her bite marks. The red glow of the Shadow Witch's magic engulfed the gypsy woman. Moments later, she was convulsing on the ground where she had slumped. Her wailing cries were already gradually turning animal-like, as her clothes tore apart at the seams – her cocoon of fabric breaking to give birth to the emergent feral kin wolf woman that Ursula was turning into…

Bruckner nodded to the subservient wolf men who were Lexington, Nixon, and Jack. "You may now feed upon the dead humans, my kindred!"

They yelped their appreciation and dived upon the ground, tearing into the gathered slain gang members – whilst the timber wolves licked their fangs as they finished their own meal. Meanwhile, Bruckner took in the transformation of his gypsy lover with glee.

 _Oh! Darn it…!_

There was no one left to save now. Whilst Bruckner and the feral kin were all distracted, Victor forced himself to venture into the clearing, shaking. And yet still, none of the creatures registered his presence.

A tingling came from the amulet. Suspecting that its magic was fading, Victor picked up the ax, careful not to make any noise. Then he gradually backed away…

Silence fell as the feral kin all looked up from the remains of their meals. Ursula panted on the ground, and then rose upon her balled rear paws as their fully-fledged kindred sister, her whiskers, pointed ears, and lupine tail twitching. She bowed down to Bruckner, who reached out and affectionately stroked her dark cranial fur.

"Good… Now we are all of one purpose! But you must be hungry now, too, dear Ursula… Take the prize before you!"

With horror, Victor heard Ursula growl savagely. Then she fell down to the ground, and tore into her dead baby with relish.

Resisting the urge to be sick, the playwright turned and slipped away into the night, just before he sensed the amulet return him to normal vision.

As he fled, he paused upon hearing a woman's voice.

"No, my minions! Do NOT harm Solomon!"

Gasping, Victor forced himself to turn around. He could now hear a cat purring, close to the where Bruckner and the feral kin were feeding. There was a green glow now also, connected to Major Bruckner's half-lupine form. Inside the glow was a half-transparent floating image of a woman wearing a hood. She bore a cold smile as she appraised her new creations. Her new slaves…

Gulping, Victor turn back to face the woods before him. With a glance at the moon and stars above to guide his direction, he headed for the way that he desperately hoped would take him towards Shadowbrook.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Minutes later, Victor stopped from his run and leaned against a sturdy tree. He took deep breaths, and managed to force back down the bile rising in his throat.

 _Where am I now…?_

Victor found himself at the edge of the olde woods. The road running nearby, lit only by the gibbous moon overhead was unfamiliar in the dark – but, drawing closer, the playwright could see that there were the tracks of many horses having passed during the past day. Also, the tread of a stagecoach…

 _The main road into Shadowbrook!_ he realized.

Glancing fearfully around him as he clung to the ax in his hands, Victor turned left and ran as fast as he could along the road – his exertions helping to keep the chill of the night away, for the moment…

About a quarter-hour later, he had caught sight of the covered bridge. A few lanterns were hooked up to the wooden frame, lighting up the militiamen present as they were in the process of tying together the hands of Ruby, Katarina, and the Scarlet Shadow. Doctor Manning was lying slumped on the wooden beams, close by – with one man using water from his bottle to cool the flushed face of the town elder.

Victor's heart fluttered at the knowledge that he was safe. Well, _safer_ – anyhow…

Hearing a chorus of howling in the woods in the distance behind him, he gave a cry and sprinted over to the bridge – where the militia stopped him.

"Well, if it ain't the kidnapped playwright! Calm down, Mr Danforth…" The senior officer amongst them smirked. "Get your breath back. We'll want to hear your story. So too will the Magistrate when he's preparing the case against these criminals."

"No time for that…!" Victor gasped, as he collapsed. "The whole town's in danger! Were- Werewolves! They are going to at-attack Shadowbrook…"

"What!?" the officer retorted.

"Jack…?" Katarina asked him.

"Tu-turned into one of them, against his will!" Victor jabbed his finger at Doctor Manning. "Manning's been scratched! He needs treatment – before he changes too… The Shadow Witch… And…and another being! Two armies between them… Two armies will fight for control over Shadowbrook! Starting tonight!"

Katarina's face paled, and she spat. "My visions. They tried to warn me of this!"

The officer and the men looked at each other – and then laughed derisively.

"Seems like a night in the wild hasn't done your nerves much good, fat man!" the officer snorted. We've been having a good drink undercover here, and haven't had any trouble, have we, la-"

He was interrupted at that moment, by Ben Summersby pulling up on his horse – just outside the covered bridge. He had ridden there from the town. Victor saw that the young man's flushed face bore a gash.

"Quickly, men!" he cried out! "You're needed outside the blacksmiths. The town has been attacked!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

 **Deadly Encounter**

 **The Windmill:**

Dusk had fallen at the windmill, where Karl, Thomas, Lucy, and Heidi were still trapped.

During the remaining daylight, after the four of them had retreated to the relative safety of the first level above ground, they had taken turns to watch the floor below, as well as outside. Occasionally, there had been the pounding of bat-like wings in the air outside. Karl had rushed over and looked through the windows. Eventually, he had been able to catch sight of the creature…, and his heart sank.

"Karl… What is it?" Lucy pleaded to him.

"Another of those winged creatures that attacked us at the manor," Karl sighed. "What your mother called a 'Grotesque'. Wait… There's another as well. They're circling round us…"

"…like vultures," Thomas added morbidly.

"Yes," Karl agreed. "Waiting for us to catch us off guard, or weaken enough."

"Or…," Lucy hazarded a guess. "…containing us for something else?"

Karl stroked his beard in thought. "Possibly. I've only glimpsed the arms of the creature that has cursed you and Thomas – and those arms were different from the Grotesques out there. They are gray. The other creature was blue-white."

Lucy had some healing ointment with her – but it had failed to work against the slowly-creeping malady affecting both her and Thomas.

As the sun went down, and using a little oil from a lantern that she found hanging up, Heidi helped Karl to create a small fire in the empty hopper – enough to provide some heat, as wooden crates were broken up to provide fuel.

Whilst considering what weapons and ammunition they had left, Karl left Lucy to check on their collective food and drink, and be responsible for the rationing for it. He did this to keep her mind diverted from her rigid foot and ankle. Even so, he had to comfort her at one stage as she sobbed – complaining of her lower leg stiffening. She refused to look at it, however – and forbade Karl to do so as well.

After Lucy had fallen silent from her crying, Thomas muttered "Wish someone would hold me right now, if we're all goin' to die." He glanced hopefully at Lucy and Heidi.

Heidi gave her face impassive, but Karl could sense the fear via the subtle trembling of her hands and shoulders. Lucy, meanwhile, actually managed to smile at the courier's gruff, unsettled tone.

"At least we are not making it so easy for those Grotesques to get at us. We have a chance…"

She was interrupted by the noise above as something smashed through the roof hatch. Karl bolted to his feet.

"Heidi – you're with me. Take the shooting rife!"

"Yah, mein herr," she concurred as she chased after Karl, racing towards the top level of the windmill.

And as they disappeared, two of the Grotesques stomped into the first-floor level of the windmill below Thomas's watchful wide-eyed gaze. The brutes roared back at him – making Lucy cry out in alarm.

"What in heaven's n-"

With its wings folded in tight, the first of the two monsters strode across to the ladder. Using its clawed hands, it tried to climb up to the gap that Thomas was guarding

"Lucy – quick!" He yelled across to her, even as he pulled out his pistol and held it with his left hand. "Make us a pair of torches from the fire we got goin'!"

With difficulty, Lucy managed to climb upon her feet. She dragged her afflicted leg behind her, but reached the churn and got to work. "What's happening!?" she cried out.

"Pair of Grotesques, trying to sneak in – whilst somemutt's attacking us from above… Crafty devils." Thomas then gave a defiant war cry, as the Grotesque drew nearer. He fired into the centre of its face, knocking it back down to the ground.

Then, directed by Thomas, Lucy hurried over as fast as she could, and dropped her makeshift torch onto the slumped creature as it turned over to rise again. The wings promptly caught fire – and the thing thrashed out. Panicking, it ran out back into the darkness outside, screaming…

"Lucky for us, it didn't collide with the walls…," Thomas mused. He then fired at the chest of the remaining creature as it scampered up the ladder. There was a piercing screech – and it tumbled backwards, collapsing at the base of the ladder. It did not rise again.

"We did it!" Lucy smiled and gave Thomas a quick hug.

"Good goin', girl." He squeezed her back, but his grin soon dropped. "Now, how long can we keep them back…?"

"And how are Karl and Heidi faring?" Lucy asked the other pertinent question.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

At the same time, Karl and the handmaiden Heidi were shooting at the Grotesque that was breaking through the roof hatch to the windmill, creating small ragged gaps. The winged monster screamed as it was hit - and it fell down upon the roof. The two defenders could hear the 'thud' from their positions at the base of the stepladder leading to the hatch.

" _You Fight Well, Humans…"_

"Vat…was that?" Heidi gasped.

"You heard it too?" Karl glanced at her, wincing as he reloaded his pistol. "That struck me not so much an actual voice, as a spike into my mind." He raised his voice. "Who or what are you? Show yourself!"

Karl sensed the smile behind the creature's next words. _"I Am The Being That Could Save Your Township From The Shadow Witch… If You Will Let Me."_

"Really…? Then why attack us!?"

" _In Order To Create My Army, I Must Also Feed… Those Who Are Strong Enough, I Allow To Live – To Serve Me."_

"Create an army? Feed…?" Heidi whimpered.

Karl's mind raced, in order to make sense of what they were being told. "You are the being behind the Grotesques!" he challenged the voice.

" _The…Grotesques?"_

"The winged monsters, such as the one that just tried to break through the roof hatch!"

" _Ahh… My Loyal Minions. I Approve Of The Name You Have Given Them…"_

"You are the being that has murdered people by turning them into husks – that is your feeding! Yes?" Karl barked.

" _Correct…"_

"And does that…then give you the energy to turn other people into living statues?" Karl slammed his reloaded pistol to, and raised his narrowed gaze to the ceiling above him and Heidi.

" _Yes… You Are Intelligent, Human. We Should Meet…Face To Face. Climb Through The Hatch, Mortal…"_

"Nein! Don't d-," Heidi protested.

"You don't have to, Heidi. But it may help for us to stand on the roof, back to back," Karl muttered. "We need to know what exactly we are dealing with, find out what this thing knows of the Shadow Witch, and discover how we can reverse the effects of its curse upon Thomas and Lucy!" And with that, Karl began to climb the stepladder.

Gulping, the handmaiden followed him up.

As the pair of them emerged onto the roof of the windmill, with the night breeze ruffling their hair and clothes, Heidi gave a gasp upon seeing the creature perched close by, on the fantail – its talons embedded into the dome roof before it, to secure its hold. Karl forced her to stand back-to-back with him, not wanting to be caught out by any tricks. The Grotesque who had broken open the hatchway was nowhere to be seen…

Instead, the being that now grinned at Karl was the same entity that he had glimpsed grasping Thomas and Lucy – a blue-white colored humanoid. It had well-developed arm and leg muscles, pointed ears, two short horns on its hairless head – and it was slightly larger than the Grotesques, with bat-like wings that were separate to its arms, and that it was flexing in the cool air. A pointed tail flicked from side to side, almost as if it was some bizarre pet.

It was the living realization of a gargoyle, Karl realized.

"Identify yourself!" he breathed, pointing his pistol towards the being.

" _I Have No Name."_ The wide, fanged mouth did not move as the thing spoke into Karl's mind. _"And What Of You?"_

"I am Karl Harrison, retired private from the Continental army. I hunt monsters…" He paused. "Were you responsible for the voices in the basement here? The vanguard for the Ancient One…?"

The Gargoyle tilted its head at him, and hissed. _"So They Are Already Moving Into Position Around The Town!? This…Vanguard…Is Not Of My Accord! I Sensed Power When I First Came To This Structure. Now I Know Why. I Thank You, Human… I Will Deal With The Vanguard, After I Have Settled With You And Your Party…"_

"What are your aims? Where are you from, gargoyle?" Karl fought to keep his nerves, and his aim, steady. His other hand slowly pulled out a dagger that was tucked into his belt.

" _I Have Come From The Catacombs, Where I Was Created, Not So Long Ago… As For What I want… I Wish To Have My Freedom, My Own Army. Shadowbrook Will Become My Territory – Not The Shadow Witch's!"_

"What is your quarrel with her?"

The creature sniggered. _"Not Mine…"_

Karl's eyes widened as he considered that – but instead of following that through, he thought of something more pressing.

"Creature – I implore you to reverse the curse that you have marked my friends with!"

" _My Stone Touch?"_ The gargoyle laughed in Karl's mind. _"But The Process Cannot Be Undone, Human… Those That I Have Chosen Will Serve Me Well As My Living Statues. They Will Form A Part Of My Army – To Fight Against The Shadow Witch And The Ancient One. But You Need Not Despair, Mortal… You Too Can Join Them…! As For You, Human Female…"_

"Vat?" Heidi turned round to face the Gargoyle.

And at that moment, the missing Grotesque pounced from where it had hooked itself in the outside panels of the windmill, below them. Wings pounding, it soared into the air and swooped upon the distracted defenders, knocking them apart as it rammed itself into them, as they spun round.

Both Karl and Heidi cried out from the impact.

The world went spinning for Karl. Quickly, he stabbed out with the dagger in his hand – and it found purchase, digging into the roof of the windmill. He forced his sweating fingers to clench around it, not daring to let go, despite his protesting arms – even as his feet dangled over the lip of the roof…

 _Move!_ He silently yelled to himself.

Karl heard Heidi's screaming, but he focused on his own efforts to get his footing back on the roof. Swinging his legs, he was soon able to do so – leaving the knife where it was for now. He could do nothing for Isabella von Took's handmaiden for now. The pistol was still on the roof close by…

 _Down!_

His senses still keen enough after his experiences from the war, and from his more recent exploits of hunting inhuman creatures, Karl ducked as he sensed the change in the air – avoiding the Gargoyle's talons as it swiped at him. He had already failed to detect the incoming attack of the Grotesque that had been waiting in hiding, whilst its master had lured him and Heidi out into the open with the ploy of parley. But Karl was now determined not to be caught off-guard again…

Diving forward onto the domed roof, Karl snatched his dropped pistol and used his momentum to roll sideways. As he did so, he managed to block the next lunge of the Gargoyle's claws with his pistol. But it turned and clipped him with the edge of its wing, instead, knocking Karl back down upon the narrow ledge running around the dome of the roof. Hissing with its mouth wide in a gleeful look of triumph, the villainous monster raised one arm. The taloned hand glowed blue as it prepared to inflict the 'Stone touch' upon him…

Karl fumbled with the pistol still in his hand. Quickly, he leveled it and fired.

The Gargoyle was struck in its bulbous head. With a piercing scream, it back-flipped over the ledge of the roof and disappeared from sight.

Panting from his exertions, Karl carefully glanced over the edge. The Gargoyle had struck the ground outside of the windmill with enough force to sink a few inches into the earth itself. It hissed and started to twitch its wings – clearly far from dead.

Karl checked his pistol and ammunition left. No time to reload right now – and the distance was too great for him to finish off the devil just yet…

A cry of fury diverted his attention. Heidi and the Grotesque that had swiped her away had apparently come down to earth together, and the minion had taken the worst of the crash-landing into a nearby tree. Now, she pulled out the dagger she had previously been hiding upon her person from the chest of the Grotesque as it wailed and flapped its wings in its dying throes. The Germanic handmaiden then turned and froze at the sight of the reviving Gargoyle, which was now pulling itself out of the ground. Screaming, she spun round and staggered over to where the dropped hunting rifle lay.

"Heidi! Finish it off – now!" he yelled down to her.

"Mistress Isabella! I vust report back to vhy mistress…!" the young woman shrieked, half-mad in her hysteria. She ran off. Moments later, Karl heard the neighing of one of the horses – and then Heidi was galloping off. In the moonlight, Karl managed to catch a glimpse of her riding the brown-colored Boreas along the road leading to Shadowbrook.

In the meantime, the Gargoyle was apparently beginning to recover from its concussion. With clawed hands clutching its wounded head, the monster raised its eyes towards Karl high above it, and hissed its anger…

Heart pounding, the soldier pulled out his dagger from the roof of the windmill, and hurried for the remains of the broken hatch – before clambering back down the stepladder. Seeing some grain-filled sacks, he moved to the hatchway leading to the next level down, and set about creating a blockade to cut off any intruder that got in from the roof…

Once that was done, Karl rejoined Thomas and Lucy, relieved to see that they were not only still alive, but that they had held out against the two Grotesques that had tried to get to them from below. The second, burnt, creature was now lying on its back, upon the ground level floor of the windmill – with Lucy's just-thrown pitchfork embedded in its still chest.

"Good work…" He smiled at her.

"Karl! Thank heavens… One tried to come back in again – but I got it!" Lucy hugged him – but then froze, upon seeing the look in his eyes. "Heidi…?"

"She's taken Boreas. Bolted back for Shadowbrook. To report back to her mistress," he reported.

Thomas appraised his friend with his good eye. "Betrayal…?"

"Yes. Isabella von Took did not supply her handmaiden to us out of goodwill. Heidi was here to spy on us! And even if she makes it back to town, if I have the measure of her sly mistress…"

"…no one might come to our rescue! We're still trapped here," Lucy concluded. She winced, still troubled by her afflicted leg. "Dear lord – save us!"

Thomas ruefully glanced at his right hand, and pulled out his shirt cuff, to reveal the spread of his gray skin. His forearm was now like stone.

"I don't think he's listenin' right now, girly," he spat.

Karl bowed his head, not knowing what to say, in order to reassure his friends. Then he sat down on the floor with them, next to the hatchway. Seeing that he had their attention, he spoke again. "This is what I learned, up there…"

And so, bit by bit, he told them what he and Heidi had heard from their enemy.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Town Hall:**

Isabella von Took was sitting in one of the audience chairs in the main chamber of the town hall, facing the raised platform where the long table – reserved for the town elders – was placed. Right now, with the sun having set two hours ago, four of the elders were present – Lord Hanbrook, Magistrate Kroft, the Reverend Harding, and Sophie the midwife. From the conversations that she had been able to listen into, Isabella had gathered that since her hurried departure from the farm estate of Major Bruckner, it had been Sophie O'Hare who had raised the alarm and started gathering the elders – firstly by riding her horse to reach Hanbrook Manor. Having informed her ladyship of the incident at the farm, it seemed that a frightened Josette Hanbrook had refused to leave the manor, but she dispatched a messenger to local her husband. He had been conducting his ongoing search for the beast that had killed Eli Bunt and Richard Shaw – and which led into a search for clues in the woods along the banks of the River Shadow, to the east of Shadowbrook. Apparently, with some hunting dogs, he had found the trail that confirmed the survivor of that attack did made his way towards Major Bruckner's farm.

"That is because it was Major Bruckner himself who fled that attack, despite being bitten by a werewolf, your lordship," Inspector Cooke addressed the four elders as he stood up from his chair.

In the audience chairs next to the Inspector and herself, Isabella looked over to Anne Marie and Victor. They had all listened to his story with disbelief – but that female outlaw who was now being flanked by Ben, Katarina Clark, confirmed the parts of the playwright's story that she had witnessed. And next to Katarina and her armed guard was the Scarlet Shadow – his hands tied together and with a guard on either side of him. He also added his weight behind both Victor's warnings – and the warnings from Katarina's visions that his partner in crime had related.

As for the other female outlaw, Ruby, was it…? She had gone with the injured Doctor Manning to the doctor's office – to help his understudy, Doctor Cochrane, treat Manning's werewolf scratch, as well as see to the concussion he had taken from his collision with a tree. Ruby had knowledge of the local herbs, having lived as part of the outlaw troop for years. Harlow Morgan, however… Isabella shook her head. She did not know where he was now. There were more pressing matters to address – such as the threats from the Shadow Witch apparently possessing Bruckner, and controlling the 'feral kin', as they were being referred to. And also the identity of 'the other being' that was threatening the town.

This 'other' had to be the intelligence behind the Grotesques that appeared above the town an hour ago, Isabella coolly reasoned. The militia – along with the guns, accuracy, and co-ordination that she and Inspector Cooke had provided had helped to fend off the pair of the winged monstrosities that had swooped down and clawed people, apparently at random. Both of the creatures had eventually succumbed to gunfire – with her musket delivering a shot that had hit one fiend badly enough to cause it to collide with the church tower, and tumble to the ground – close to where Anne Marie had been stationed at the time. In her fright, the school teacher had improvised and used her satchel of books to fend off the monster's claws from striking her. Then Inspector Cooke had struck it from behind, to ram his dagger into the Grotesque's heart, killing it.

The militia had collectively managed to shoot down the other twisting, airborne creature. However, it came down and struck a brazier near to the blacksmiths, starting a fire. The militia - including those from the covered bridge - and the townsfolk were quick enough to gather enough water to put it out, though, leaving only the Grotesque burnt to death.

Isabella pulled herself out of her disturbed recollections and thoughts, as the bewigged Reverend Harding broke the silence that had fallen. He now rose from his chair and pointed at Victor.

"If this is god's truth, man, th-"

"It is, sir," Victor wailed.

"…then god is surely punishing us for our laxity! We had sentenced Elaine Bartlett to death – but have underestimated her tenacious spirit. She must have truly done a deal with the devil for her to not now be burning in hell! And as for her brute of a brother…" He glared at the other town elders present. "…we should have never allowed him to become an elder of this town!"

"You know the reasons why we did so, Elijah…," Lord Hanbrook declared calmly, even though the keen-eyed Inspector Cooke could see the sweat on his brow. "His money was needed to run the estate of Hob's Hill farm that he acquired, for one."

"And the other reasons?" Cooke spoke the question that Isabella herself had formed in her mind.

"We are not at liberty to say, Inspector." Kroft nervously folded his hands and looked away.

"The Major called you hypocrites…," Victor blurted.

"They are hypocrites. All of them have secrets – even the ones who are not here…," the Scarlet Shadow languidly volunteered. "For example, the Reverend's father had an affair with…"

"Be silent, you scum!" Kroft hissed at him, jerking his head.

"Enough!" Sophie yelled, startling the others. "I know nothing of this 'other' that Mr Danforth speaks of – but it must be behind the Grotesques and the living statues! In the meantime, it is clear that the town is going to come under siege from the werewolves that Bruckner has gathered. We must instruct the militia to set up barriers around the whole of the town! The Shadow Witch is cunning – she will direct her chosen soldiers, and could send them against us from any direction, now that she has control over people like that servant boy who aided the outlaws…"

"Exactly." Katarina nodded her head. "Jack will know of less obvious ways to get into this town!"

"I concur with you, Sophie," Lord Hanbrook declared. He glanced to either side of him along the long table, to gauge the reactions of Harding and Kroft.

"Agreed. We need to set up a cordon around the town, and lay down traps." Kroft turned to address the Captain of the Watch. "Townsend! See to the necessities for the defenses!"

"Yessir!" Townsend gave a short bow. "What about the Shadow here?"

"Take both of the prisoners and throw them into the gaol, of cour-"

"No. Let me help you defend the town!" the outlaw leader proclaimed.

Kroft's eyes widened, then he let loose a derisory bark of laughter. "You pair are proven criminals, and will be locked up! Now. Soon to be joined by your weepy wretch who is currently at the doctor's of-"

"Ruby is weepy because she has lost her brother! He died at the hands of the ghost soldiers at the marsh. And they are there, we believe, because of the Shadow Witch's power," Katarina spat with disgust. "And if you care anything about the safety of the people in Shadowbrook, Magistrate…"

"How dare you…! Of course I d-"

"…then you should make use of every fighter available to defend the town. That includes both me and Darcius here!" Katarina did not flinch from the pudgy man's furious glare.

"She has a point, Tiberius," Sophie cut off the retort that was about to spill from Kroft's opened mouth. "I have also heard accounts of how accurate a shot Miss Clark is."

"I'm deadly with bladed weapons too." Katarina smirked.

"It makes sense to put them to work in fighting these…creatures…I suppose," Harding concurred, his voice stern. "If it is God's will for them to die in the defense of this town, then they will. Otherwise…"

"…you can lock them up, afterwards, Tiberius," concluded Lord Hanbrook.

Kroft took in the determined expressions of his fellow elders, and huffed. "Very well… Mr Summersby – see to it that the outlaws do not escape us again! They are to assist in setting up the defense of this township! Captain – start seeing to setting up the arrangements! We will join you when we have finished here."

Captain Townsend clicked his heels together, gave a stiff nod, and then left the chamber.

"Sir!" Ben saluted his acknowledgement.

"We won't run out on you." Katarina's eyes hardened. "I want to ensure that the Shadow Witch and this…Other…pay for the loss of our friends, including Jack…"

"And what if your former servant boy turns against either of you?" Cooke put to her.

Katarina did not reply. Instead, her gaze fell upon the polished wooden floor.

"If he is truly lost to us, we will have to consider him as hostile – and…put him out of his misery… I hope it is what he would have wanted us to do," the Shadow hesitantly declared. "If it was me… If I became one of those cursed minions of Bruckner and that witch, I would want to be put down before I could take an innocent life, or harm a loved one."

Anne Marie saw Katarina stiffen at those words. More than that, the lips of the copper headed outlaw trembled…

"Then we have something of a plan of action," Inspector Cooke spoke up, his attention on the Scarlet Shadow and the elders. "Sergeant Allardyce made it back to town with…most…of his militia company, after their run-in with these…spectral soldiers that Mr Danforth and the outlaws themselves encountered." He coughed nervously, still getting to grips with everything that had been thrown at him in the last few days. "Anyway, the good sergeant has reported to me since my own return to town – and both he and I will, of course, serve amongst the defenders. In the meantime, there is the question of what you can be doing now, Miss von Took and Mademoiselle Piaget…" He turned to face them as he spoke.

"I will return home an' rest, whilst I can. Then I will consider my next move," Anne Marie considered. She smiled apologetically at the Inspector and Isabella. "Pardon moi. I am not so brave as certain others here."

"Nor am I, unfortunately, mademoiselle," Victor declared as he dabbed his handkerchief against his flushed face.

Anne Marie's smile widened as she locked a bashful gaze between them. "I think you are learning that you're braver than you think, Monsieur Danforth," she responded.

Victor was surprised to feel his heart flutter.

Meanwhile, Isabella placed the tips of her long fingers together. "I will see how I can help around town. Then later, perhaps I should keep Lady Hanbrook company, and ensure that all is well at the manor."

"Thank you, Madam von Took. However, that brings me to another pressing point." Lord Hanbrook slammed his palm on the long table, startling those present as a crack formed in the elder's calm demeanor. "I have been informed by a messenger sent by Lady Hanbrook that my daughter has not returned home since she left, this morning, apparently to conduct her usual charity work in town. But she did not go there. Reverend Harding, here, has told me so. So, do any of you self-appointed defenders of our town know where she is?"

Silence fell.

Then there was a commotion at the main door to the chamber. A soldier entered, supporting a breathless and frightened-looking Heidi. She was clinging onto a sturdy-looking rifle.

"Excuse us sirs, ladies…," the soldier declared. "This woman was insistent on coming in. Says she has information of great importance…"

"…including the whereabouts of Lucy Hanbrook, no doubt. Excellent timing, Heidi!" Isabella smirked. She stood, walked over, and gently removed the weapons from her servant's now-yielding grasp. "Another hunting rifle! Excellent. Against any one target… Well, I only need one shot," the noblewoman declared, her gray eyes now as hard as solid silver.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Doctor's Office:**

Several hours later, Inspector Cooke emerged into the Doctor's office, as Manning's understudy – a tall, thin young man named Cochrane – opened the door. It was raining heavily outside, and the two newcomers shook their wet cloaks and removed their hats, before huddling before the still-lit coal fire in the waiting area.

Cooke saw the mustached junior doctor curl his lip with distaste at the sight of the woman who had entered with the Inspector.

"Why is that thief here, Inspector?" Cochrane snapped irritably. He had barely rested – having taken shifts with Sophie during the long night to treat the injured who had been brought in from the clashes that had sprung up since sunset...

"I'm here to see Ruby!" Katarina snapped, her brown eyes flashing as she shot her face towards the junior doctor. "Where is she?"

"I see. This way, then," Cochrane answered back, as he adjusted his bloodstained apron and unlocked a side door, leading Cooke and Katarina into the chilly morgue, where Cochrane lit the lantern present for their benefit. There were already more bodies than tables here – with two, cloth-covered shapes lying on the stone floor. Cochrane tiredly walked over to the nearest shape, and pulled back the cloth to reveal the clawed and battered form of Ruby. Her eyes were still open, the lids already rigid.

"No…, no…, no…!" Katarina collapsed besides her deceased friend and hugged the body as she wept.

At a gesture from Cochrane, Cooke followed the junior doctor back into the warmer waiting room, which was – compared to earlier in the evening – now empty. With no other illumination in the room, the flickering flames of the fire created deep pools of shadow on Cochrane's face as he turned away from the fireplace and towards the Inspector.

Behind the drab curtains of the nearest window, the rain continued, unabated.

"Thank heavens for this downpour. It's why the attacks from those…winged things…have stopped?" the rather stuffy medic asked, his expression drawn and weary.

"It would seem so. And maybe why the lupine beings have not yet besieged the town," Cooke considered.

"I will repeat my earlier question, Inspector. Why is that outlaw here? Granted, I am glad that she still had my money on her, and that you earlier sent Sergeant Allardyce to repay me…"

"Katarina Clark is here for two reasons, Doctor Cochrane. One is because of the news that you sent to me, via Sophie – and I am allowing Miss Clark to grieve…"

"And she is not under lock and key, whilst the Scarlet Shadow is?"

"Darcius Redfern…as we now know him to be…has been helping to fight off the…Grotesques…earlier – as has Miss Clark. And their shooting skills have helped our band of defenders to bring down some of the devils! But Magistrate Kroft would only allow his Mandate to me to bring the lady here – whilst Redfern is now enjoying a bed in the gaol, resting before he is needed again," Cooke declared in hushed tones. "Reason number two is that with Ruby dead, we need someone else from the outlaw gang to lead us to their herbalist at their hideout, to save Doctor Manning from the werewolf bite and scratch that is still afflicting him. Or has his situation changed?"

Cochrane sighed. "It hasn't. Until that Ruby woman was snatched outside by one of those winged creatures, she and I had been taking turns seeing to Doctor Manning – whilst Sophie did what she could to administer aid to the other wounded patients. We have tried to administer belladonna to Doctor Manning – but we have run out…"

"We will have some at our hideout," Katarina answered, as she pushed open the door before her. She held Cochrane's gaze. "How did Ruby die, doctor?"

"One of the…Grotesque beings…seized her, during one of their attacks. I saw her bolt out, to help a blind woman with two staffs, who was being targeted by the creature. It…grabbed her instead with its legs – then rose into the air and dropped her onto a roof. I saw her roll down, and land in the street. Her head injuries and broken ribs…" Cochrane shrugged and trailed off. "…I could not save her in time."

Katarina wiped her red-rimmed eyes with her head and nodded. "I hope her soul is now with Rudy – and that they are happy together…," she muttered. "I am losing my friends in the gang. Rudy, Ruby, Jack - and Sloan, who was turned into a statue at the keep… I swear that I am gonna make those winged freaks pay."

Cooke's eyes widened. "If one of your friends was turned to stone, then…"

Katarina pressed a gloved hand against her face as she considered the implications of Cooke's words. She collapsed into one of the nearby seats. "Darn it…! Can't we go now!? You want me to take you to Merrick, our medic. If we wait too…"

"No. The rain is too heavy, Miss Clark. In the darkness, our party would be more vulnerable to attack. We set off at sunrise. You, me, a soldier to escort you, and Doctor Manning himself."

"Transporting the patient? I must object, Insp-," Cochrane protested.

Cooke raised his hand. "Orders from the remaining town elders, sir. We need your superior cured as soon as possible, so that he can assist you when Shadowbrook comes under attack again! As for transporting Doctor Manning, Carnaby the coachman has been allocated to assist us."

Cochrane sighed. "Well, dawn is only a couple of hours away, now…"

"Exactly. We will both rest here, if you will put up with us, Doctor Cochrane…," Cooke gave him a stern look.

It did the trick. The younger man huffed and turned round, heading for the staircase. "I'll see if there are any spare blankets upstairs, then. You can both sleep in here. I will continue to watch over Doctor Manning. Sophie is hopefully getting enough rest now to relieve me at daybreak."

"Thank you, doctor…" Cooke rubbed his tired eyes. Too much had happened today. So many incredible things – and later, as he lay on the wooden floor, covered by a spare blanket, he stared at the now-sullen Katarina, who was just beginning to nod off underneath her own blanket after the sleeping draught Cochrane had given her. Beyond the nearby window, the rain continued to pour. There had been no screeching of the winged terrors since the rainstorm had broke out – and now the constant, but natural, gushing of the rain helped to smooth Cooke's frayed nerves. Still, he considered how muddy the ground around Shadowbrook would be tomorrow. Against the wolf creatures, it would hinder both them and the townsfolk – but the Grotesques would be able to take advantage whilst diving at prey slipping in the muddy streets…

Cooke silently mulled over the incredible story that Heidi the handmaiden had related of the events at the windmill. The news that the winged devils were the servants of a living Gargoyle... He hoped that Harrison and Harrow were still alive, along with Miss Hanbrook. Lord Hanbrook had dispatched a pair of militia soldiers to aid them, before the storm had broken out – but they had been immediately attacked by Grotesques swooping down from above. The two men had been fortunate to return to Shadowbrook alive, it had seemed. That had shaken Lord Hanbrook's confidence. So, for now, Harrison, Harlow and Miss Hanbrook had to fend for themselves – wherever they presently were…

And right now, what lay in the shadows beyond the lantern-lit streets of the town? What exactly were the Shadow Witch and this…Gargoyle…planning?

He thought of his superiors back in Boston. How they would mock him if he told them of the strange series of events he had to relate – even if he did survive the course of things to come. Even if he did present them with the bodies of the Grotesques he had already secured. How he wished to be back at his home! His own parents had passed away – and he had lost contact with his brother and sister, after moving to Boston in order to prove himself in his career. He had been more concerned about his work than his own relationships – and there was no wife, and no children to await him back in the city. Nonetheless, he wondered if he would ever see his own home again – where he could be right now, sleeping in his comfortable bed, instead of being on the hard floor of a Doctor's office, in a town under siege…

Jonathan Cooke closed his eyes and tried to find his own sleep naturally. But his dreams – when they came - were haunted by the Grotesques, and most of all by his memories of that awful moving living statue of Samuel Shaw that had reached out to strangle him with its stone hands…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

 **Collapse**

 **Shadowbrook:**

In addition to her existing anxieties over the supernatural threats to the town, Anne Marie Piaget was currently not a happy lady in a more domestic regard. Given that the rain had cleared before dawn, and the Grotesques had not yet reappeared, she had turned up for her Sunday school duties, as per usual – only to hear from the headteacher, Ambrose Birch, that the town elders had ordered the school to be closed until the crisis was over.

"In the meantime, the Reverend has instructed the children to report to the church for his Sunday sermon – whilst their fathers help with the defenses of the town," he informed her. Birch ran his fingers through his almost non-existent hair, as he appraised her on the doorstep of the otherwise-deserted school. "Given the circumstances, Miss Piaget… Why don't you join me for a drink in my office? Brandy or a good wine, perhaps? I have heard the militia's declaration of the emergency, as they marched around the town last night – as have most people by now. If we are truly going to be struck down by winged devils or werewolves, perhaps we can appreciate each other's company a little better, before…"

"Non! I do n-" Anne Marie caught herself, and took a deep breath. "Pardon, Monsieur Birch, but I am teetotal. And I wish to speak to ze Reverend Harding. Perhaps he could do with my assistance there."

She caught the narrowed eyes and flash of anger from Birch – but Anne Marie turned and walked away along the street with her satchel of books, before he could stop her. The headteacher was a little too lecherous for her liking. The recent memory of Major Bruckner was bad enough – and now he had truly become a monster now, according to Victor Danforth.

But at the church, her heart sank. Not only did Reverend Harding reject her assistance with the children, he was in one of his ranting moods as she tried to divert him from his attentions with a bonfire that he had set up in the yard next to the church – and into which the mothers of the school children were now dropping fuel for the fire.

To her horror, Anne Marie saw that the fuel was coming in the form of books. She spied a book of lore – a tome that she had previously seen on sale at the Blacksmiths, and which she had been considered buying, if only she had enough money. But also, the mothers were now – encouraged by Harding – burning books on law, science, and literature.

She screamed, and flung herself at the other women, in an effort to stop them. Harding himself pulled her back.

"Unhand me, Reverend! Zees books…"

" 'Tis witchcraft! The sins of this town have brought this evil upon us, Miss Piaget! And the innocent will no longer be taught things that make them sway from the just teachings of the Bible."

"Aye! Be away with you, teacher!" one mother cried out, pushing her away from both Harding and the bonfire. "My son has told me of your lessons. You do not believe that God created the world in a week, he said! What other devilry have you been feeding their minds with, aye?"

"Ze discoveries of the English geologist, William Smith… And ze French naturalist, Comte du Buffon!" Anne Marie protested. "What zey have found is at odds with ze Bible telling us that the world was made by the almighty in one week. An' ze Earth… It is likely to be far older than we have been taught!"

"Those men are liars! Charlatans. There is ultimately only one law – and that is the word of God!" Harding fumed. He turned to the ladies of the town, his eyes wide with what Anne Marie feared could be madness. "Cast this wretch out of here, for the greater good!"

Several of the other townswomen muttered angrily amongst themselves. Pushing the schoolteacher out of the yard, Anne Marie fell back. As she tried to pick herself up again, she was kicked by the women as they were whipped further into hysteria by Harding's rants.

And there was nobody present to help her. All of the children were presently in the church.

Eventually, she managed to get up and run away with her satchel – thankful that she had managed to tear it out of the grasp of the crazed crowd.

Running back to the safety of her home, Anne Marie slammed the front door behind her, and broke down in sobs as she slid down the wooden frame…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Upon hearing the crash from below, Lucy Hanbrook suddenly woke up, startled.

For a few moments, she shook to dispel her mental fog – and chastised herself for falling asleep when she had been the one left on watch duty.

The post-dawn light filled the floor of her surroundings. The rain of the night had given way to calmness and sunshine. And she fancied she could even hear, through the window, the cawing of crows.

That suggested that the Gargoyle and its Grotesque minions had disappeared – at least for now.

She, Karl, and Thomas were all still on the bin floor level of the windmill, just above the broken entrance doors – and Lucy blushed to discover that she had collapsed with fatigue upon Karl's chest, and that his hand was rested upon her hair…

 _Oh, well. I see that we managed to keep each other warm whilst the fire ran out of fuel, then…_ , she told herself. Smiling, she brushed Karl's brown hair and then his beard – something that she had never done before. It felt good – and she hoped that they would live to see another morning when she could awake next to Karl like this…

The noise came again. Twisting round to look down into the first floor chamber, Lucy gave a cry of terror. Immediately, she began to shake Karl awake. Before long, he came to.

"Urr… Wh-who? Miss Palfreyman…" Karl's eyes fluttered open. "No – can't be… She's d-"

The thought crossed Lucy's mind that Karl's green eyes were quite lovely. She had rarely been this close up to them…

"It's me, Lucy! That thing has broken out of the basement!" She clutched at his jacket.

Karl snapped himself to attention, and immediately shifted himself to peer through the gap at the top of the wooden stairs. He saw the last remains of the busted doors to the cellar fall upon the floor as the thin withering tentacles lashed out at the air above, as if seeking warm meat to ensnare…

"Blast! What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Karl. I fell asleep on my watch! I've just been woken up by that…horror…breaking out from below!" Lucy admitted.

"Rouse Thomas!" he instructed her, as Karl gathered his weapons. He glanced across at the stairs leading to the upper levels, and around them. No other enemies in sight, it seemed. He checked on the windows too. Nothing hostile outside to be seen.

When Thomas had fully awoken, Karl glanced again at the demon-like entity below them, before turning to his friends.

"Check yourselves over, both of you! Any change with the Gargoyle's curse on you?"

Thomas patted his right arm. "It's spread to my elbow, dammit!"

"Your turn, Lucy. We'll both look away." Karl nodded to Thomas – and the men turned round whilst Miss Hanbrook reluctantly checked her left leg.

"Oh, dear god. Noooo….!" She sobbed.

As Karl and Thomas caught a glimpse of the gray-colored skin that had almost reached her knee – before Lucy lowered her skirts.

Karl winced at his mistiming. "Sorry."

"I'm not," Thomas muttered, managing a smile. "Might be the last time that I'll…" He trailed off at the sight of Karl's stern gaze.

"We all need to get out of here when we can – so that you pair can get to Doctor Manning and be cured of this curse!" Karl urged them. "At present, it looks like the only barrier in our way is that beast…"

"…which whispered to me in the dark, before you rescued me from the cellar." Lucy shuddered. Then a memory came to her. "Wait! The voices… They told me that my parents had lied to me!"

"They did," Thomas declared, under his breath.

"What!?"

"Thomas! This is not the time fo-," Karl bristled.

"Listen, matey. I've got a bad feeling about this…"

In spite of herself, Lucy smiled. It was noticed by Thomas. "What?" he asked.

"You talk as if you are Selena. She often talks of having bad feelings," she observed.

Thomas shrugged. "Oh, well. I do sometimes pick up on how other people talk. But I managed to change her mind, after we started kissing…"

"What!?" Lucy exclaimed.

"Thomas! Stick to the point, if you are going to say anything!" Karl admonished his friend.

"Alright… I've got a bad feeling about our odds of getting' out o' here. And I think the good lady 'ere should know, whilst we got the chance," retorted Thomas.

"Know about what?" Lucy gaze alternated between the swarthy courier and her gallant soldier friend.

Karl huffed. "Alright. Tell Lucy what you read in that safe, Thomas…"

Minutes later, Thomas had finished his tale. Lucy was sat on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chest as she pressed her hands against her cheeks.

"I'm twenty _two…!?_ Why…why have mother and father lied about my age?" Lucy sobbed once more. She raised her tear-stained face, and dabbed it with her handkerchief.

"There must be something about the circumstances of your birth that they wanted to be kept secret," Karl mused, stroking his beard with his thumb. He slowly knelt down to Lucy, and held out his arms to her – trying to image how he would feel if he had suddenly discovered that his life had been shortened by a year because a lie had been exposed…

After a pause, Lucy sniffed and pressed herself against him. He rocked her gently. Then, when she had recovered, Lucy rose – and Karl stood up with her.

Thomas turned round from the window. "Still clear out there!" he announced.

"Then, if we're all ready, we had better try to break out of here now. Are we agreed?" Karl asked them.

"Yeah," Thomas answered, snapping the loaded barrel of his pistol back into place with his good hand.

Lucy held her own pistol ready and mustered a smile. "Let's take charge of our own destinies!" she declared.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Karl led the way down the ladder, and assisted the stiff-legged Lucy down to the first floor – before he helped Thomas in turn. Then the three of them attacked the withering tentacles at Karl's signal – collectively using a pitchfork, pistol shot, dagger, and saber. Together, they managed to wound and drive the thing back into the cellar – thus clearing the way for the trio of heroes to finally exit the windmill. Karl held onto Lucy as she limped - whilst Thomas kept just behind, keeping his good eye open for any hidden dangers.

"So Heidi took Boreas. What about Euros?" Thomas pointed out, as they hurried as quickly as they could to the nearest clump of bushes.

"Let's find out…" Karl whistled. After a few moments, he did so again. His heart pounded with concern over the horse, hoping that he was still alive. And if not, the journey to Shadowbrook would be a slower, more perilous one…

Eventually, there was a snort which made Karl sigh with relief. Then the white horse emerged from the grouping of trees around a pond, a short distance away. His tail swishing from side to side, Euros trotted across to them.

"We can't all go on him, surely?" Lucy objected.

"You two are the ones with that 'stone touch' from that wretched Gargoyle. You pair should get on," Karl urged them. "I'll follow on foo-"

"Dammit!" Thomas raised his voice. "Incoming targets from the trees to the east!"

The party of three all looked to the woodland there. Three winged figures had appeared on the ground between the trunks – the blue-white Gargoyle in the centre, and a Grotesque on either side of it. At a cry from the Gargoyle, the Grotesques began hopping forward. Their wings began to flap, as they gathered momentum to fly…

"Stand back… I'll handle this!" Karl barked. "Thomas, Lucy. Get onto Euros, and get to the Doctor's office. Now! No arguments."

"Well. You know how fast I can ride…" Thomas grinned.

Karl assisted Thomas onto the horse's back. The courier tucked his weapons away and held the reins with his left hand.

"Karl…!" Lucy managed to squeeze his wrist, as he helped her on behind Thomas. She slipped one arm around the rider, whilst holding her pistol with the other.

"Godspeed!" Karl urged them. He and Thomas exchanged solemn nods – and then the courier lightly kicked his heels into Euros. The horse trotted, and then gathered pace, as Thomas steered him in the direction of the road leading south-west towards Shadowbrook. Meanwhile, Karl drew his saber out again, and turned to face the Grotesques now flying towards him.

But as they clashed, he caught a glimpse of the Gargoyle flying off in the direction of the Shadowbrook road, and swiftly gaining on his fleeing friends…

"No! You monster! Face me!" Karl roared at it.

The Grotesques leered and hissed at him as they took it in turns to dive at him and swipe their claws, as though mocking the soldier whilst they kept him occupied.

Karl's saber lashed out, just missing the first of the fast, dodging fiends…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Euros was pushed as fast as he could go by Thomas. The partially-flooded, wooded landscape on either side of the road seemed to flash by, Lucy thought, as she held on tight. Although she was an experienced horse rider herself, she had never raced as fast as this before. But then, the stakes had never been so high whilst on horseback in all of her previous rides…

At first, the rush of the morning air – fresh after the night's heavy rain – came as a welcome relief after the hours of being trapped in the windmill, and Lucy's heart soared with delight. But then the heavy pounding of wings in the air behind and above them reached her ears.

Next she felt a pressure piercing her mind – a voice trying to enter her head…

"No!" Lucy screamed. With her arm firmly wrapped around Thomas, she twisted her head round, and spied their inhuman pursuer.

" _I Will Complete My Claim Over My Chosen Ones… You Will Not Defy Me! You Will Both Become My Latest Minions! Shadowbrook Will Be Ours…_ ," the Gargoyle rasped.

"Git out of my head!" Thomas hollered, glancing up at the Gargoyle, which was now changing direction, even as Lucy aimed her pistol at it. She fired – but just missed.

"I can't track it quickly enough!" she wailed, looking around. "And now I've lost of it, Thomas!"

"Jus' keep your eyes open, missy. And listen to me!" he shot back, as they raced on. "It's just struck me where these things might be hiding! When I was on top of the windmill, looking out, I noticed that…"

Lucy listened to Thomas as he completed his account. "Oooh!" she exclaimed. "And none of us looked and noticed when we went by the place! But does that mean…?"

"…that one of your elders has been harboring these creatures, missy? I've got a bad feeling. It's telling me that I'm rig-"

"Watch out!" Lucy screamed, as she saw the vast shadow suddenly come over them from the break in-between the two plots of woodland to their left.

An instant later, the Gargoyle collided with them, as its gliding attack from the side knocked Euros and his passengers off the road.

The world spun around Lucy. Moments later, she landed in a rain-soaked bush, which arrested her momentum. Groaning, she allowed her dizziness to fully subside, before she got up upon her feet. Her pistol was close by…

Dragging her stiff leg, Lucy gritted her teeth and forced herself towards it.

 _I will not…stop now! Have to push myself on…_ , she told herself.

There was a bounding motion behind her – and then the Gargoyle had caught up, tackling her into the long grass around them, with Lucy ending face-up. The Gargoyle hissed in triumph. Raising its taloned left hand, which now glowed with an unearthly blue light, it clamped its claws onto the right side of Lucy's chest – and applied its stone touch there. Lucy screamed as agony seized her – then her scream trailed off into a hoarse whisper as her right lung failed to work properly. She panted.

" _You Will Not Scream Now, Little One… Soon Your Beauty Will Be Preserved Forever, And You Will Serve Me Well As The Newest Of My Living Statues…"_ The Gargoyle leered.

Then Thomas hollered at the top of his voice as he ran towards them. His pistol fired, punching a hole through the Gargoyle's wing. It screamed in rage, and turned to face the courier, who dropped his pistol and pulled out his dagger to meet the monster's attack.

"Git out o' here, Lucy Hanbrook! _Run!_ " Thomas yelled across to her, in the moment before he and the Gargoyle clashed furiously.

Grabbing her fired pistol, Lucy pulled herself up and limped for the nearby thick bushes and trees. She gasped and pushed herself on – not daring to look back. Not even when Thomas's screams finally ended…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Karl's back crashed into the sturdy wooden panels of the windmill, as he was sent spinning from the roundhouse punch from the second Grotesque. It hissed and prepared to charge at him…

Feeling as though he had been swept aside, Karl dropped to the firm ground before him – and then rolled clear and swung upwards with the saber that he had just seized hold of again. The point sank deep into its intended target.

There was a screech, a spray of dark blood – and then the creature smacked into the windmill. With a wailing last cry, it collapsed, twitched violently in its death spasms, and then fell still.

Karl tried to remove his saber – only to find that it was now broken in his desperate avoidance of the monster's final strike. Sighing and wiping his flushed face, Karl glanced again at the first of the Grotesques, which had crashed into the tower of the windmill when he had managed to shoot it in the head whilst in mid-flight. The impact had finished it off.

 _Thomas and Lucy…!_

Grateful for his fast reflexes, as well as to whatever forces were looking after him, Karl considered himself fortunate to have only received minor wounds so far at the windmill. He took a few moments to gather his breath and strength – and then he was running along the road that Euros had taken, hoping that he wasn't too late…

Minutes later, he realized that he was.

The Gargoyle was nowhere to be seen. There was a trail of blue-colored blood which led into the woodland to the left of the road – but Karl turned his attention to the opposite side, where the handiwork of the villain was all too apparent.

First of all, he knelt down by the remains of Euros. Karl stifled a sob, and reached out to close the eyes of the dried-out husk. He muttered a goodbye to his animal friend – wanting to say more, but having no time as he stood and jogged over to Thomas.

Only Thomas Harrow was now sprawled on his back on the ground, with his arms raised to defend himself, his screaming face frozen in anguish – set as it was in stone. His whole body, including his courier's uniform, had been turned into gray rock.

Karl took in a deep breath, and then slowly released it, in order to control his boiling anger. He bowed his head – unable to tear himself away from the man-turned-statue that was inanimate. For now.

He checked his pistol.

"I thought so… No bullets left to free you from your impending slavery to that… _devil_!" Karl roared, before repeatedly bashing his pistol against the face of the Thomas-statue. He was unable to damage it, and the soldier collapsed at the base of his cursed friend, sobbing. Unable to bring himself to say another goodbye…

" _Helllppp…!"_

As the faint cry reached Karl's ears against the backdrop of the sifting wind, he gradually recovered from his turmoil. Pulling himself up, Karl forced himself to listen. And to study the tracks on the ground. Someone had limped across through the long grass and made it into the woods…

He found her a little later, propped up against a tree. Lucy's clothes were torn and wet from her escape from the scene of the attack. She shivered and pointed the pistol towards Karl – then her wide eyes recognized him.

"It's empty…," she whispered. "No bullets left. Just felt good to…have something in my hands to whack…that monster with, if it came for me here." Then Lucy dropped the pistol and collapsed. Karl rushed over to her.

"Easy… I've got you," he reassured Lucy.

One of her hands brushed against the tears that were on his face. "Thomas…?" she whispered.

"He's been turned into stone! And I've got nothing here to smash him down before he becomes a living statue. Dammit!"

"He saved my life… Thomas shot the Gargoyle in the wing – and it turned upon him, allowing me to get away…" Lucy's lips flickered into a brief smile. "He managed to be a gallant man at the very end."

"Good for him… So that's why it's gone to ground – instead of tracking you down," Karl mused. "Come on! Whilst our enemy is recovering, we've got to get you cured… Wait, your dress has been clawed at!"

"It touched me again, Karl. On my chest. I can't breathe properly," Lucy wheezed. "I thought my lucky nature would help me and Thomas get to town… But not this time… I don't want to die, Karl! Please do not let me die… I'm only…twenty two…" Her lips fluttered into what might have been a smile.

"No! I've just lost Thomas and Euros. I've not losing you, Lucy!" Karl vowed. He bent down and carefully lifted her up, feeling her to be heavier from the latest addition to her curse of stone. Then, getting his bearings, Karl turned and headed back towards the dry road with his precious load as he cradled her…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Abandoned Keep:**

"Come on, man! We're losing her!" Inspector Jonathan Cooke shouted over his shoulder at the stumbling Abbots, who was trailing behind him. Impatiently, Cooke turned his attention forwards again – just in time to see a flash of copper-red hair, as Katarina Clark disappeared over a ridge in the woods.

"She must be heading for the abandoned military keep, sir!" Abbots yelled back, one hand still pressed against where the female outlaw had clobbered him with a small rock. There would be a bruise – but it would be nothing compared to what the injuries he would give her, Abbots silently seethed. If the uptight Inspector hadn't been around, anyway…

"So that must be the base camp of the outlaws…" Cooke paused, allowing Abbots to catch up. "You know the way to it from here?"

Abbots nodded, and winced – feeling his head swim from the motion.

"All right, Abbots. I can see that you're not quite steady. Let's link arms. You lead on…"

As they did so, Cooke reflected on the activity of the morning so far. Daybreak had revealed that the storm of the previous night had given way to clear skies. Doctor Manning was still recovering from the concussion he had been left with after Blanchard's attack upon him in the olde woods. Employing Joshua Carnaby the coachman, they had left Shadowbrook as a group after breakfast – once Miss Clark had gotten the goodbye kiss with her lover, the Scarlet Shadow, that she had insisted upon.

And so with Cooke riding his horse and acting as their escort, the coachman had transported the groggy Doctor Manning, Miss Clark, and the two militia guards watching over them. They had been making good progress. Then events had gone awry when the female outlaw had requested that she answer the call of nature…

The comment had alarmed Cooke – and he had asked if she had been scratched or bitten by Major Bruckner or the werewolf-like creatures…

Luckily, she had meant a more basic human need. Only it had been a ruse, for once inside the edge of the woods running alongside the road, Katarina had clobbered her escort – Abbots – when he had finally turned away from the sight of the outlaw pulling down her pants.

And now… Leaving the other militia guard to stay with Doctor Manning and the coachman, Cooke and Abbots halted as they reached the edge of the woods that bordered the northern side of the ruins before them. Cooke felt a shiver run down his spine. Even in the clear light of this late October day, there was something about the abandoned fortress that did not seem…right. The air was silent apart from the sudden cawing and flight of the occasional raven. Then Cooke put his finger upon it. There was no sight or sound of any human activity from the half-crumbled building. Even if the outlaws were adept at hiding themselves from passers-by, he could not sense any feeling of being watched. Could not even glimpse – or smell - a whiff of smoke from any campfire.

"I'll be alright now, sir," Abbots declared, his moustache twitching with agitation.

"Very well, Abbots. Arm yourself." Cooke released him, and prepared his pistol – as did the militia man. "Despite the mess the building's in, I can't see a way in…"

"Front door's on the opposite side, sir," Abbots informed him.

"Very well. I'll walk along the west side – you cover the east. We'll meet at the front entrance," Cooke instructed.

The Inspector's heart pounded as he crept alongside the west wall of the ruins. He glanced at the parapet, and at the occasional hollow space that once held a window – but saw no one. Then as he reached the far corner…

The wailing scream made his heart lurch. Gathering his wits, Cooke raced to catch up with Abbots – who was sprinting towards him from his corner. Meeting in the centre, they slammed past the closed wooden front double doors there and raced past the gatehouse to emerge in the courtyard. Pausing for a moment, Cooke glimpsed a flicker of movement in one of the open doorways – and he led Abbots along a corridor that was lit only by the sunlight shining through the gaps in the broken ceiling. Ahead he saw Katarina raising up and backing away from something on the floor…

"Stay right there, Miss Clark! Hands up where we can see them," Cooke snapped to her.

"It ain't me you need to worry about…," Katarina sobbed as she complied with the order. She continued to look down, as though mesmerized by the grisly mess…

 _Oh, lord…_

Cooke took in the sight of the bearded man sprawled at the base of a wall smeared with what had to be drying blood. His throat had been torn out – and something had also made a meal of his internal organs, working from the stomach in.

Abbots hissed and walked forwards. Roughly yanking Katarina away from the corpse, he spat in her face. "Forget him! He's a goner! Now let's find your medic, thief. And then we can get out o' here before whatever got your ma-"

Katarina forced him off her as she yelled "This is Merrick. He is our medic! Or rather…he _was!_ "

"Darn it…" Cooke rasped, as he looked around – watching out for any further signs of trouble. "Did he have any supplies?"

"Should be something in his room…" Katarina took a deep breath and led the two men deeper into the fortress. In one of the less-ruined rooms, the trio came across a couple of camp beds and an assortment of potion jars and boxes containing herbs. Before long, Cooke had helped Katarina to find the wolfsbane and belladonna samples that they needed.

"Good! Let's go…," Cooke barked at his companions. He held the box – whilst Katarina had two jars in her hands.

"I've heard nobody about," Katarina muttered as she looked along the corridor they had come along. "Where are the rest of my friends?"

"Let's leave before we find out, you scum…," Abbots growled, leveling his pistol at her.

Rolling her eyes, Katarina followed Cooke back along the twisting passageways towards the courtyard. Only as they approached the broken doorway, two thin, stooped wolf men stepped out sideways on the courtyard side of the frame. Their lupine silhouettes now blocked off half of the sunlight – but the party could still smell the gore on the exposed teeth of the one in front as he growled menacingly at them and stepped into the corridor. He was still wearing the rags of his red-colored pants over his dark fur and he also bore earrings in both lupine ears.

"No…! It's Kelner! The cook!" Katarina gasped.

"How can you tell!?" Cooke snapped back as he gingerly retreated from the slowly-advancing Feral Kin. His gun hand shook from his rising terror.

"Those earrings are unique to him! Darn it! Major Bruckner and the Shadow Witch have come here…"

"…and spread their infection and influence," Cooke concluded. "Now – how to evade him?"

"The kitchen area! There's a blocked off exit that leads to a stairwell…," Katarina suggested as she turned and ran. "Follow me!"

But when they reached the chamber used as the kitchen area, Katarina and the men halted, upon seeing the small, ginger-furred Feral Kin stirring from slumber as it sniffed the air. Next to it were the mangled, half-eaten bodies of more outlaws. Cooke's eyebrow lifted in wonder, as he spied the teats below the furred belly of the latest lupine monster…

Katarina made a croaking noise. "Ja-Jasmine…?"

The Feral Kin rose upon her rear paws and smiled, tilting her head as if in recognition of her name. Raising her muzzle to the air, she let loose a howl – which was answered by her kindred brothers. Then, Jasmine gazed at the intruders to her territory and hungrily licked her lips, as she prepared to attack…

"To hell with it!" Abbots raised his pistol and fired directly at the forehead of the Feral Kin. She instantly dropped down, dead.

Katarina screamed her rage – but stopped abruptly as Cooke yelled at her. In the corridor outside, the wolf men were running towards them.

"The exit! Where is it!?"

Taking deep breaths to steady herself, Katarina dashed to the corner and tapped the barrel there. Understanding her, Cooke helped her to move it aside – exposed a hole in the wall. Then he fired his pistol at the wolf men in the doorway at the other end of the room – but missed as they ducked down. Meanwhile, Abbots was reloading.

"Go!" Cooke urged Katarina, waving at the hole. Nodding, she wigged her way in…

"Uff…!" Cooke exclaimed, as the panicking Abbots tried to push his way past him. "Abbots – your pistol is ready to fire! Guard my back as I go in!"

But the private wasn't having it. The two men scuffled – and then one of the wolf men dived upon Abbots, grabbing his leg. The pistol hit the floor, and accidently fired – sending a bullet into the belly of the reckless soldier. He screamed.

Scenting the blood, the second of the Feral Kin directed his attention to Abbots – ignoring Cooke for the moment as the private was assaulted by both of their pursuers. His cries turned into piercing wails.

Without a loaded gun at hand, Cooke instinctively dived for the hole and burrowed into it, before he heard the splatter of Abbots's blood.

Emerging from the hole, he found himself in a dingy stairwell with crumbling steps. Katarina quickly helped him up as he fought to control his rapid breathing and overcome his rising bile.

"Thank you… Not escaping from me, now?" He smiled weakly.

Katarina shook her head. "Reckon we need to stick together. But I left the samples in the kitchen, in my rush to get out!"

"Blast! So did I…"

"That creepy Private of yours…?"

"Hopefully, Abbots will give those creatures indigestion! Now let's put some distance in-between them and us, and find some weapons to take them out and retrieve those herbs and potions," Cooke urged Katarina, as he grabbed hold of her hand and raced up the staircase. But already they could hear the growling of the Feral Kin as they started to crawl into the hole.

Moments later, the Inspector and his prisoner emerged from the top of the stairwell and found themselves on the parapet walkway on one side of the fortress. The stone staircase leading down to the courtyard was at the corner of the parapet.

Unfortunately, the statue of a man was also on the walkway, at the top of the staircase that they needed. It turned stiffly towards them. Twin white lights glowed from where its eyes were. There was a faint cracking of stone as the thing grinned at them. Then, the living statue slowly took a ponderous step in their direction. Then another. Gradually it was gaining speed.

"Darn it! Sloan!" Katarina sobbed. "He… _it_ …has come alive! Darcius and me… We're all that's left of this gang! The only ones still human at any rate…"

Cooke heard the Feral Kin clambering up the staircase from the kitchen. He glanced down into the muddy courtyard. There was a pile of gathered firewood close by, as well as the fortress's well…

And now they saw the first of the wolf men step out onto the parapet just behind them, the remains of Abbots dripping down onto his furred chest. The earrings suggested that it was Kelner the cook.

"Jump!" Cooke yelled at Katarina. As he did so, he noticed that she was fingering a charm in her free hand.

They jumped, and hit the rain-soaked muddy ground. Spluttering, the pair of them rolled over to where the ground was firmer. Seconds later, one of the wolf men – the unidentified one – had leapt onto the pile of firewood. But the wood soon gave way under the impact, and the lupine creature howled with fear as he was sent tumbling into the open well…

And glancing at the walkway above them, Cooke blinked in disbelief again. Kelner the Feral Kin and Sloan the living statue were fighting amongst themselves…

"They are not of the same army!" he gasped. He turned to face Katarina, and added. "That supports your visions of two beings and two armies, fighting over the town!"

"Yeah… At least that's lucky for us, right now!"

But the fight was soon over. As fearsome as Kelner was as a werewolf-like creature, his swiping claws and biting fangs were failing to harm his equally-inhuman opponent. Limbs grinding, Sloan locked his grasping stony hands around the neck and throat of the Feral Kin, and squeezed…

Kelner's howls were soon reduced to a wheezing whine – then was then cut off, as a loud 'snap' resounded. A moment later, the Feral Kin's body was pushed aside and over the exterior parapet wall, where it tumbled out of sight. A dull 'thump' followed.

Recovering their breaths, Cooke and Katarina helped each other up. But already the animated statue that had been – or perhaps still was – Sloan, was already striding back towards the steps that would lead the petrified man into the courtyard. Towards them.

Cooke glanced around him. There were no other foes within sight or earshot. He now realized that he had dropped his pistol as well in his flight, but…

"If we can overcome your former friend, we can retrieve the herbs and potions!" he rasped. "Any ideas?"

Katarina gulped, as she rattled her brains. "Yeah… There's a chance. C'mon – this way! To the eastern side of the parapet…," she panted

With the two of them partially caked in mud, the female outlaw led her custodian guard across the courtyard to the staircase that led up to the walkway on the opposite side of the fortress. Both of them were flagging now after their exertions. But seeing the living statue of Sloan gaining on them with a steady, determined pace, Jonathan Cooke gulped and forced himself on past the mental barrier of his exhaustion and his terror, as he raised one heavy muddy boot after another to climb the stone steps. Those stone hands were raised as the statue started to ascend the staircase after them, eager to claim another victim to throttle…

As he wheezed with the effort of climbing, Katarina helped him to the top by yanking on his hand. Eventually, they reached the walkway.

"Now… Leap after me!" the outlaw instructed him, as she gathered her breath and then jumped over the cracks in the stonework.

Cooke looked over his shoulder, and nearly swore. Sloan was almost upon him…

Then the living statue paused. It seemed to notice the cracks in the fractured parapet. The grin on the gray face shifted into a snarl.

"C'mon, Inspector! Jump!" Katarina hollered at him.

"It knows! By reason, or memory – it knows what outcome we're aiming for!" Cooke shouted back. "So we do what we must…" And with that, he ducked down and dived past the courtyard side of the statue, surprising it with his daring move. One stone hand swung towards him, but missed.

Heart pumping with adrenalin, Cooke rolled in a ball and turned onto his back. Then his bent legs kicked out straight – his heels slamming into the stomach of the turning statue.

The impact jarred the soles of his feet – but the thrust was enough to knock Sloan staggering back onto the cracked stonework, where the animated statue collided against the parapet. Then the walkway began to shudder and break up…

" _Take cover!"_ Cooke yelled, as he hurriedly dragged himself back.

He caught a glimpse of the silent scream on Sloan's face. In the next moment, the walkway collapsed outwards onto the surrounding earth. The living statue broke up into countless pieces as it hit the ground, adding to the scattered debris and plume of dust.

Finally gaining his breath back after his hacking cough, Cooke looked across the breach in the perimeter wall, to see the white-faced Katarina clutching a solid part of the parapet as she lay sprawled at the edge of the devastation. She coughed, but grinned back to him.

"Good on yer, Inspector! It was still my idea, mind…"

"So noted, Miss Clark… Now, what was that charm in your hand?"

"Ahh… That. It's my lucky charm. Got it from the olde woods. Just don't ask me how…"

"I see… Now, let's retrieve those herbs and potions, eh?" Cooke declared as he slowly got up. "The rest of our party must be worried about us – and we're still got a doctor as our patient to treat…!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

 **Blood Transfusion**

 **Shadowbrook:**

Harlow Morgan was not a happy man. In fact he was quite frustrated.

Ever since the first attack on the town by more of the winged creatures, such as the one that Lady Hanbrook had termed 'Grotesque', his available time had been taken up by the demands of Lord Hanbrook and the militia. They had come to him, to check out the effectiveness of his adjusted net gun. Satisfied with his demonstration, his lordship and Captain Townsend had then asked him to make more – and also to provide anything else that could help in the defense of the town for the next assault to come.

So he had spent several hours in his warehouse workplace during the night, making final tinkering changes to his formula for making smoke bombs of his own design. And, to prevent anyone (or anything) from harming his work, the Captain had put a militia guard at the door of his workplace.

Harlow had left after midnight, only to walk the short distance in the pouring rain to his rented house close by, to eat a late supper and sleep.

He had wanted to slip away, in order to see to other business – business that had become more pressing with the development of events that the Captain had related to him. But he was too important to the authorities now…

And now, resuming work on another batch of smoke grenades, as he worked at his lab area, wearing protective gloves and goggles, he wished he had an assistant to take over his work, whilst he tried to do something about the mess he had made of things…

He dropped his tools and pressed his gloved hands against his flushed face for a moment, as he wailed. As he fell silent again he glanced at his notebook for the weather conditions for the night to come, where he had left the page open. His measurements, in the small yard outside, had led him to believe that Sunday night would be overcast, but fine. There would be no repeat of the thick clouds and heavy rain of the previous night…

 _God forgive me! What am I going to do…?_

He was jerked out of his morbid thoughts by the heavy knocking on the door to the warehouse.

Answering it, he was startled to be confronted by three people. The two worried-looking men before him were Lord Hanbrook and a man dressed as a dragoon soldier – with the latter looking tired and haggard. His green uniform was stained with sweat, dirt, bloodmarks – and baring several gashes.

In the arms of this second man was a barely-conscious Lucy Hanbrook.

"What in god's na-?"

"Help my daughter, man!" Lord Hanbrook snapped. "Mr Harrison found me on his way to the Doctor's office – but Dr Cochrane and Sophie are worn out from treating the injured from last night…"

"Can you, as a man of science, save her? Please, Mr Morgan!" Karl begged of the smaller man before him. They had never met before – and even now, despite his fear for Lucy's well-being, he was weighing up the Welsh-accented, bespectacled inventor.

"Oh! Um… Well, you had better bring her in, I suppose…"

Following Harlow into his workshop, Karl was directed towards a workbench – which Lord Hanbrook hurriedly helped Harlow to clear of the beakers and Bunsen burner. With Lucy now laid across the cleared space, Harlow fetched a cushion from a chair for her head.

His unexpected patient moaned, and tried to sit up. "Dry… I'm thirsty…," she croaked.

Harlow soon returned to her with a cup of water. He helped her to sip it down. Having finished, Lucy's head slumped back upon the cushion.

"Wh-what has happened?" Harlow's questioning eyes moved over to the grim-faced Lord Hanbrook and Karl.

Karl quickly filled him in about their clashes with the Gargoyle and what it had referred to as its 'stone touch'. As he finished his account with the fate of Thomas Harrow – the fascinated inventor watched as Lord Hanbrook pulled back the lower half of Lucy's dress, plus her underskirt.

"My word! This is inappr-," Harlow protested, blushing.

"This is no time to be squeamish about examining a lady, Mr Morgan! Mr Harrison here has shown me the results of this 'stone touch' – and now I will show you the problem. My daughter is dying! Cochrane has looked briefly at her – but he is out of his depth with this, whilst Manning is out of action. If Manning already has a cure for this, no one else knows of it…"

"Doctor Manning? Why…? What has become of him?"

Lord Hanbrook promptly proceeded to tell the little man of the werewolf scratch and bite Manning had been given. And how Inspector Cooke and the thief Katarina Clark were hopefully now recruiting the healer amongst the outlaws, at their hideout.

Harlow's face turned white. Reacting instinctively, Karl grabbed him before he could faint.

"Pull yourself together, Mr Morgan! You are our last hope!"

"My apologies… I did not realize just how bad things had become…," Harlow rasped. He took a series of deep breaths to steady himself. Gulping, he eased Karl's hands off his green jacket – and then gathered his tools to examine Lucy's stone-skinned leg and chest. He took blood samples from those areas, and then next rubbed off some skin at the edges of the inflicted areas and placed them under his microscope, to compare.

"Even now, the human body cells are being transformed into this rock-like substance. It matches that from the statue of Samuel Shaw, which…um…"

"…came alive right here, in your workshop - or so Inspector Cooke and those ladies with him, told me," Lord Hanbrook finished for him. "Can you do anything for poor Lucy, Mr Morgan?"

The little man moved away from his microscope and pressed his shaking hands against the sides of his pale egg-shaped face, as he leaned on his workbench and glanced at the wheezing Lucy. He looked, Karl thought, to be deeply conflicted over something that was not obvious…

"She is such a lovely girl… She is too young to die…" Harlow's voice was broken, desolate, Karl considered.

The ex-soldier's heart sank. His eyes moistened. "Yes, she is… And it's my fault she's ended up this way. I should have refused her request to come with me and Thomas," he muttered.

"Not your fault!" Lord Hanbrook snapped at him. "I know how spirited Lucy can be. How determined she is to help others… And, if she hadn't been so youthful and energetic – she might not have lasted as long as she has, thus far…"

"There is one thing I can do…" Harlow straightened up, and examined his sample slide of Lucy's mutating blood. "I just hope that my blood is compatible… Now, help me please, gentlemen! Grab hold of Lucy. We're going over to the doctor's office – right now!"

"A…blood transfusion, using the equipment there?" Karl asked him, as he rose to his feet.

"But…your blood? I mean…" Lord Hanbrook paused. "I…am her father."

Unnoticed by his lordship, Karl gave him a thoughtful look.

"It needs to be my blood. Trust me, sir." Harlow's voice held a note of determination.

Lord Hanbrook studied the inventor's grim expression – and then nodded. "Very well! I will help you to carry my daughter again, Mr Harrison…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Abandoned Keep:**

He and Katarina Clark had managed to carry the wolfsbane and belladonna back to the coach on the road – but Inspector Cooke fumed as he saw the next set of problems unfold.

The first was the unnerving sight of several trees _dragging_ themselves by the roots from the woods to the east until they had blocked the road leading back towards Shadowbrook.

"Dear lord…," the Inspector muttered, wondering what other horrors his mind was going to be forced to accept before the day was through. He and Katarina had just caught up with the coachman and the remaining militia guard – when the coachman had spat out a loud curse, as he sighted the moving trees. Then as they rooted themselves again, eyes – yes, yellow glowing _eyes_ had opened on the side of the trunks facing him.

"The Shadow Witch… She knows we're here." Katarina spat. "She's controlling them…"

"If so, what does she hope to achieve by cutting us off from the town…?" Cooke snapped his fingers. "Danforth told us that she wanted to get at the town elders! How is Doctor Manning?" He directed his last question at the stout guard.

"He's turned feverish since you and the prisoner here went off, sir. I've tried to cool him down using my water bottle." The guard paused, and then spoke again. "Begging your pardon, sir – but where's Abbots and…?"

"I'm afraid everyone else is dead, Costello," Cooke murmured darkly. He looked across to the coachman. "There's nothing else for it. The road is out. We'll have to find another way back to town! What are our options, Conrad?"

"Hmmpf! I ain't riding east into the olde woods, if that's where those wolf-creatures you've talked about are! And the wheels would get stuck goin' into the marsh, anyhow." The coachman huffed, and took off his tricorn hat in order to scratch at the balding spot set into his white hair. "I might be able to drive, slowly mind, along the west side of the nearest field and get onto the road between Hanbrook Manor an' town…"

A wild cry from inside the coach interrupted him. Costello turned and opened the carriage door – only to be bowled over by Doctor Manning.

Cooke, Katarina, and the coachman were all taken aback. Bereft of his spectacles, Manning shot his face up from the sprawled Costello and glared at them with eyes that were turning yellow. The clean-shaven doctor had sprouted a coating of hair along his jaws and over his cheeks, and his dark hair had become thicker. Cooke shuddered as he realized that the elder's ears were pointed - and that his canine teeth were longer, now resembling half-grown wolf fangs. The hands, emerging from ripped shirt sleeves, were also furred – with the nails having become longer, and sharper…

"He's turning! Keep back – but don't let him escape either!" Cooke yelled to the others. He kept his eyes on the lycanthropic doctor who was rising from the moaning guard he had ambushed, then…

" _Get down!"_ the coachman hollered, before he ran and flung himself into some nearby bushes.

A flap of bat-like wings and the glimpse of something monstrous were the only other warnings Cooke got, thanks to his focusing on the transforming Doctor Manning. Then there was a blur of motion, and Katarina was knocked aside onto the road.

Cooke allowed his head to stop spinning as he propped himself upright against the tree he had collided with in his dive to escape injury. Then, running over to Costello's dropped musket he crouched on one knee and took steady aim at the blue-white winged horror that had just snatched up the howling Doctor Manning…

The Gargoyle screamed as the shot struck its wing. Tilting as it veered off course, the monster was watched by the breathless humans below as it lost height and drifted in a wide arc, and ended up being lost to sight in the woods to the west of the road. There was a resounding, crashing noise – followed by the howl-like cry of Doctor Manning.

Cooke forced himself up. "Quickly!" he snapped, as he dashed over to free the coachman from the bushes. "We need to get the doctor back – before that fiend kills him…!" He trailed off, and swept his eyes around the rest of his party. "Costello? Miss Clark?"

The coachman had hurried as fast as he could to assist the groaning guard.

"He hit his head on the road – but he'll be right, soon 'nough!" the coachman remarked, as he helped Costello to rest against the wheel of the coach. "I'll see to 'im."

Cooke nodded and helped the still-muddy, and now-dusty Katarina up from the road. She winced at a cut beneath her ribs.

"Miss Clark…?"

"Only a scratch…," she muttered.

"From that devil's claws?" Cooke raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Think so." Katarina took a deep breath, and then steeled herself to go on. Her expression was pained, but determined. "Right! Let's find and save the doctor, then. The attack from Bruckner and his pack could come at any hour – and we need Manning cured and to be safe. The Shadow Witch… The visions that I saw. She wants all of the elders dead - or under her control, as werewolves or Feral Kin. With each victory…, she will become stronger."

Cooke nodded. "Let me quickly fetch some equipment from the coach, firstly. Then we can go…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Some minutes later, having followed the trail of trees with broken branches, Inspector Cooke and Katarina emerged into the clearing where the Gargoyle was pinning down the snarling Doctor Manning.

The Gargoyle hissed, one taloned hand glowing with an unnatural blue light – as it squeezed the elder around the throat. Then Katarina took aim and opened fire with the musket Cooke had passed onto her. Screeching, the Gargoyle twisted round upon the impact. It was just swift enough to avoid the net from the net-gun that Cooke had fired at it. With the Gargoyle leaping up with a bound from its powerful legs, the inspector and his outlaw companion managed to duck down in time to avoid the slash of the creature's talons. Then it was up and away, heading over the treetops – one wing already healing from Cooke's earlier shot, as it turned and avoided Katarina's next shot…

As the ghastly screech disappeared, the pair picked themselves up and faced Manning, whose upper body had been ensnared by the weighted net. His clothes had ripped further, and his elongated face was half-lupine now. By thrashing against the nearest tree, he had managed to wiggle himself upright.

Cooke reached out his arm to make Katarina stop in her tracks. "Look!" he exclaimed. "His neck!"

Katarina's eyes widened. Underneath the net, the skin of the doctor's neck had been turned to stone – but already the grayness was fading. Within seconds, it had turned back to pink – only to then become coated with the spread of Manning's emergent dark fur. Meanwhile, the rest of the elder's body changed as his bones crunched, twisted, and stretched in places whilst shortening in others. A fur-covered tail could be seen growing from the remains of his pants.

Manning snarled, exposing his fully-grown lupine fangs. With his claws he tried to rip apart the net that was preventing him from leaping upon the two humans that were starting to smell like food…

"The stone touch of the Gargoyle… It's failed to affect him!" Katarina breathed.

"The curse of the werewolf has won over the Gargoyle's curse of stone," concluded Cooke. He nodded at the outlaw. "Just shoot him in the lower leg."

"Ur-huh…" Katarina took aim at the elder as he managed to tear the net apart and charged at them.

The silver shot embedding into his shin caused him to collapse, howling in pain as he did so. But he snarled and spat in defiance, his phlegm hitting Katarina's ripped shirt – before she whacked him into sleepy land with the butt of the musket.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Doctor's Office:**

Karl Harrison snorted as he jerked awake. His confusion passing, he cursed himself for falling asleep on the floor of Doctor Manning's bedroom.

Pulling himself up, he sighed with relief – seeing Lucy sleeping in Manning's bed. Harlow Morgan was just disconnecting the tubes and equipment that had allowed him to transfer his blood into her veins.

"Uhh…" Karl looked around, but saw no sign of Lord Hanbrook. "Where's…?"

"…his lordship? He's been called away by Captain Townsend. The wolf creatures have been sighted by the militia at the covered bridge," Harlow explained. He sighed. "The flow of refugees from Brooksvane has now stopped. They reported attacks by the…Feral Kin…at the village. Several of the villagers there were slaughtered. A few others are missing. And… And I've heard at least one survivor downstairs speak of the werewolf that is our friend Major Bruckner. He's been busy and he's been brutal. What I want to know is how many men and women has he killed…? And how many has he, and this Shadow Witch sister of his, converted into his pack of minions?"

"You know about the Shadow Witch?" Karl asked him.

"Only from what Lord Hanbrook, Captain Townsend, and Inspector Cooke have told me." Harlow sat down in the chair next to the bed as he regarded Lucy, who seemed to be now squirming in her slumber. After a few, tense moments, she became quieter. Karl stood up and approached her with apprehension.

"For his lordship to leave her…," he reasoned.

"Lucy is recovering, Mr Harrison." Harlow gave a weak smile. "I have examined her – just minutes ago. Lord Hanbrook saw for himself."

Feeling self-conscious about seeing Lucy this way in the circumstances, Karl quickly pulled back the blanket. Thankfully, she still had her undergarments on – and a quick glance at her leg revealed that the gray skin had turned a healthy-looking pink again. There was no indication in Lucy's breathing that the curse was still affecting her chest, either.

Karl covered her up with the blanket again and felt her forehead.

"She feels very warm… Is she feverish?"

"The curse from that…gargoyle…is dying away in her, Mr Harrison…"

"Call me Karl."

"Very well, Karl… Lucy's temperature will break. Do not worry. And do not worry about the fact that you fell asleep, either. You did look exhausted." Harlow smiled again, this time with more vigor. "Perhaps if you go downstairs and ask either Doctor Cochrane or Miss O'Hare to fix us some food…?"

"We seem to be taking over Doctor Manning's house in his absence…," Karl observed.

"Well. We had to use this room – as the injured from the surviving refugees have replaced the folk injured by the Grotesques in Shadowbrook, in the surgery downstairs. There's no room there for Miss Lucy…"

"People injured by the werewolf!?" Karl bristled. "If they are infected also…"

Harlow shook his head and put up a hand to calm Karl down. "Doctor Cochrane has answered my questions about this. The so-called Feral Kin – those lesser werewolves… They do not seem to be able to transfer the contagion. The injured have been scratched in their flight from Brooksvane – but show no signs of turning themselves."

"That's good to know…," Karl responded as he stroked his chin. "I'll fetch us something to eat. Be back in a few minutes."

He checked the clock in the crowded surgery, and saw that it was mid-afternoon. Thankfully, Sophie O'Hare was able to spare him a few moments to ask about Lucy. Hearing the good news, she smiled and instructed Karl to take some bread, cured meat, biscuits, and water back upstairs on a tray – which he did, whilst Sophie got back to helping Doctor Cochrane treat the wounded.

Back on the upstairs landing, Karl paused as he set the tray down on the carpet before turning the door knob. Opening the door slightly – and silently – he caught Harlow stroking Lucy's titian-colored hair and the freckles on her cheek. He was murmuring "I'm…sorry." Then he sniffed and shot his face up to face the door.

Karl entered, and noticed that Harlow's round face was pale.

"Ah… Lunchtime?" the inventor tried to smile as he nervously rubbed his hands. "We've both seemed to be running late, and my stomach's been rumbling…"

Karl nodded and returned with the tray. They sat opposite next to each other with the tray placed on the windowsill, and ate in silence. Through the closed window, Karl could still hear the commotion of the militia – who, along with Sergeant Allardyce – were setting up a barrier at the southern edge of the town. Karl understood that other barriers were being set up – not just on the roads, but as much as possible, on any point of entry that Bruckner and his feral pack could get into Shadowbrook.

Apart from the shouting and activity of the guards and the hurrying of passersby, Karl paid attention to the muted afternoon sunlight as it shown on the profile of Harlow Morgan. Karl turned in his seat to observe the light bathing Lucy's peaceful-looking face.

As the two men finished eating and drinking, Karl made his calculated gamble.

"Are you Lucy's real father?" he asked the inventor.

Harlow's eyes widened in shock. But his expression was not of a man being found out, Karl considered. It was one of…bewilderment.

"M-m-me? No! Of course not! Y-you mean his lordship is…"

"Let's just say I have come across some information that raises a mystery, Mr Morgan," Karl carefully responded. "So…, why did you just apologize to Lucy before I came into the bedroom?"

The plump inventor glanced down at the carpeted floor, before raising his eyes to peer at Karl over his spectacles. He shot a glance towards their patient.

"Lucy…reminds me of my daughter, Karl. She was of a similar age and looks when I last saw her…"

" 'Was'. Is she…?" Karl ventured.

"…dead? I'm afraid so. And so is my beloved wife. I lost them both in the last few years. Please do not ask me for particulars, sir. The memories are still too painful," said Harlow, his eyes now filled with turmoil. "But what makes you think that Miss Hanbrook is not Lord George Hanbrook's daughter? And what of Lady Josette…?"

"For the last year, I have been hunting down monsters – since being discharged from the army," Karl started to explain. "In order to gain some honest money along the way I sketch the profiles of people who are willing to sit for me. I seemed to have developed a good eye for spotting the signs of family resemblance. And whilst Lord Hanbrook was in here earlier – before I fell asleep – I suddenly realized that his lordship does not share any facial similarities with Lucy. Now, your beard makes judging your face trickier – but again, there's not much overlap between Lucy's face and yours…" Karl sighed and tapped his fingers on the food tray. "Some instinct tells me that this is important. Despite the fact that this town is about to come under siege."

"I was not at the meeting between the town elders and the people who have, like you, encountered the dangers in this township. But I overheard Inspector Cooke telling his Sergeant something earlier that might be of bearing. The Scarlet Shadow declared at the meeting that all of the town elders are hiding secrets," Harlow mused. "It seems to be a reason why the Shadow Witch is persecuting them. They are hypocrites, in her view – it seems."

Karl mulled that over, and nodded. "Who amongst them can we trust?"

"From what I learned, from…ah… _eavesdropping_ …, the Inspector considers from his sources that all of the remaining town elders are fearful of the Shadow Witch. Only Bruckner was on her side, being her brother."

"And what of this Gargoyle?" Karl pondered. "It said to me that it was created in the catacombs…and that the quarrel with the Shadow Witch was not its own, but someone else's…"

"A quarrel?" Harlow frowned. "I know nothing of any catacombs around here, not having lived here that long. But…what if it was acting in association with someone who was desperately afraid…"

"…of the Shadow Witch…?" Karl smiled. He reached out and patted the scientist's shoulder. "I think somebody amongst the town elders is in serious need of giving us all some explanations! Thank you, Mr Morgan!"

The older man looked touched. "Please… Call me Harlow."

"Harlow, it is…," Karl fell silent as Lucy cried out. Rushing to his friend as she started to toss violently from side to side, he felt her flushed skin.

"Her temperature's rising, Harlow!" Karl frowned, thinking. He kept his eyes on Lucy. "By the way… How did your blood cure the stone touch that Lucy was inflicted with? And…why did you eat almost all of the cured meat before I could touch it?"

"Ah… Sorry about that, Karl," Harlow's voice came from behind the soldier. There was the sound of a jar being opened. Then the next thing that Karl knew, the inventor was pressing a medical pad against his nose and mouth – a pad soaked with chloroform…

Karl struggled, but Harlow held onto him with surprising strength. Tired from his earlier exertions, Karl eventually passed out…

Harlow sighed and carefully laid the younger man down on the floor. Then he pulled out a syringe that was already filled with liquid, and proceeded to inject Lucy…

Time was running out, he reflected gloomily. He had made a right old mess of things – and now he desperately had to change the situation around.

Somehow…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Manor:**

The current situation, Isabella von Took thought ruefully to herself, was surely the most disturbing yet in her unexpected experiences since first arriving at Shadowbrook.

She had teamed up again with Anne Marie after finding her crying near to the church. The school teacher had tearfully told her of her run-in with the book-burning mob led by that lunatic of a reverend. Then, taking pity on Anne Marie, Isabella urged her to return with her to Hanbrook Manor.

That was another unexpected experience, Isabella reflected at the time. She did not often take pity on anyone.

"The men of the town are preparing for a siege – and we ladies would just be deemed to be in the way, I suppose," the noblewoman had declared, her nostrils flaring with disdain. "Come! Let us ensure that Lady Hanbrook can give you a room for another night, at least. And maybe, whilst we help guard over my old friend, perhaps we can find out something relevant to our problems in the manor's library?"

Anne Marie visibly perked up at the suggestion. And so, along with Heidi and a certain hunting rifle, the women made their way north west to what they hoped would be safer territory – away from the olde woods, where Victor Danforth and the outlaws had encountered the werewolf Major and his magically-enhanced pack of wolf people.

Only, as they approached their destination, in a hired trap, the ladies discovered the latest horror to strike the township.

A trail of rats were emerging onto the road from the driveway to Hanbrook Manor.

They were milling about a little as they sniffed the air, but kept to the manmade pathways. And they were starting to form a line as the ones in front began running towards Shadowbrook.

The driver stopped and swore. He crossed himself as he commentated that he had never seen so many rats together in his five decades of life. " 'Tis the Shadow Witch's work! Even from beyond the grave, she wreaks her havoc. This township is cursed…," he ranted.

Isabella gave Heidi and Anne Marie a stern look. "More work to do, I see… Care to join me in the clean up process?" she asked them, maintaining her calm demeanor.

Heidi looked nervous, but gave a sharp nod. "I have no veapons on me, Mistress Isabella. But I vill gather some stones by the roadside."

Anne Marie gulped. "Tres bien… I will do ze same," she declared. "Where are they coming from?"

Isabella left the hunting rifle in the trap as she got out, and produced a knife from her traveling cloak. "I suspect that they are coming out of the manor itself. We'll save the rifle and its bullets for a little later, I think. As for now…" She turned to face the oncoming, squealing, withering trail of vermin, her face clenched with disgust. "…no rat is going to scare off Isabella von Took! Let's get to business…"

And with that, the three women advanced from the trap, stabbing, stoning, and stamping as they fought back their fear of the crawling rodents.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Covered Bridge:**

The light was dimming as Jonathan Cooke was helped down from his horse by one of the militia. His horse was seen to, whilst the inspector advanced into the gloom underneath the vaulted roof of the wooden bridge, joining Lord Hanbrook with the armed guards at the barricade set up at the far end. The planks groaned a little as Cooke walked forward to the barrier set up at the end, pausing a bit as he heard the roar of the river Shadow – unseen, but only three-four meters beneath him. He considered how sturdy the floor would prove to be if…

"Do not worry, Inspector," Lord Hanbrook suddenly spoke, seeing his unease. "This is the main approach to Shadowbrook, after all. The timbers are quite sound."

"I was actually considering what would happen if the 'Feral Kin', as Victor called them, were to storm across this bridge," Cooke replied. "Or even if they tried to swim across the river…"

"After the rain of last night, the river Shadow is running fast – as you can hear, Inspector. And it is too deep for good swimming. I do not think that these animal-like creatures will dare to cross here." A smirk appeared on the lordship's round face – and then his expression turned somber once more. "I came out here when I heard from Captain Townsend that Bruckner's…pack had been glimpsed from this structure. That was less than an hour ago."

"And the Captain…?" Cooke prompted him.

"…is still in town, Inspector. I ordered him to supervise the setting up of the defenses around the whole perimeter of Shadowbrook. That Danforth fellow said he was considering some ideas to defend the town. Anyway… How did it go with the outlaws, regarding curing Doctor Manning's werewolf scratch?"

Cooke quickly gave a brief account of his close brush with death at the Abandoned Fortress – and the surprise encounter with the Gargoyle.

Lord Hanbrook's face turned pale. He staggered slightly, and had to sit on one of the barrels that had been placed as part of the barricade. "Dear god! So we _are_ under attack by two different forces… And it tried to snatch Theodore? I mean Doctor Manning… What is his condition now?"

"Well, fortunately the coachman was soon able to find a route back to Shadowbrook. Costello, Miss Clark and I took the Doctor to his surgery – where we left Doctor Cochrane and Miss O'Hare to do their work with the herbs and potions we gathered. They were already overworked from having to see to the injured townsfolk…"

"Yes, indeed. My daughter… Lucy... is there too. She seemed to be recovering by the time I was called away." Upon seeing Cooke's raised eyebrow, Lord Hanbrook told him what he had learned from Karl Harrison.

"My word…," the Inspector muttered, reeling from it all. So Harrow had been turned into another of those blasted statues…

"And Miss Clark? Where is she now?" the older man pressed Cooke.

"I took her back to the gaol, your lordship. Where the Scarlet Shadow is still locked away." Cooke had hesitated before replying. What he didn't want to say was that Katarina Clark had begged him to place her in the same cell as her fellow outlaw. "I'm scared that this will be the last opportunity that Darcius and I can comfort each other, Inspector," she told him, with a genuine look of horror in her eyes.

And so, despite his own misgivings and the protests of the jailor, Jonathan Cooke had allowed Katarina to be locked up with the surprised, but pleased, Darcius Redfern. He saw the two of them passionately kissing behind the bars of their shared cell, and collapsing onto the meager bed – before he had turned away, leaving them to their business.

He didn't need to be a detective to know what the pair of them were planning to do underneath the blankets. Katarina had a good point – any of them could die in the oncoming conflict. Maybe even all of them.

"Good work, Inspector." Lord Hanbrook huffed with pleasure. "Hopefully, before long, Doctor Manning will be cured and able to offer his services again to us in our time of greatest need! A pity that the other outlaws were killed before the law could catch up with them – but at least some of the people who have been…converted…into monsters will not harm anyone else, now that they have been wiped out. God willing, there will not be many more creatures in Major Bruckner's pac-"

A loud yell from one of the privates cut his lordship off. He and Cooke spun round. The soldier had dropped the flask of tea that he had been drinking – and now his eyes were directed to the winding road leading south east towards the crossroads and the nearby hamlet of Brooksvane. His arm slowly rose up. One extended, shaking, finger pointed to the trees on one side of the road.

"What is it, man!?" Hanbrook barked.

Then he saw what the private had already spied. So too did Inspector Cooke, and the rest of the company as they gathered over to the barricade.

One by one, dark shapes were emerging from behind the trees. They were dressed in ripped clothes – and some shrugged off the last of their garments as they stepped onto the road. Pants, dresses, the uniform of a soldier. All of them were each wearing something else, though. A pelt of fur. Most were the size of men or women – two were the size of children. Cooke wondered if one of them was the servant boy that Victor Danforth had spoken off – who had been changed into a monster before the playwright's eyes.

With pointed ears twitching, dark leathery noses sniffing the air, and short tails whipping behind them, a series of howls rang out until the whole pack of the Feral Kin were united in song.

"Dear god... If there is even a god. No, no, _NO_ …!" Cooke gasped, realizing. "They must be the last remaining residents of Brooksvane… Converted by Bruckner and his sister..."

His Lordship crossed himself – sweat beginning to show on his face as his calm demeanor began to slip.

"To arms!" he cried.

The first shots rang out as the wave of Feral Kin snarled and bounded towards the covered bridge in their eagerness – an eagerness to satisfy their drooling, bestial hunger for the frightened prey that they had scented…


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen:**

 **Leading Questions**

 **The Manor:**

Anne Marie sat down at the circular table in the library and sighed, still feeling the scratches she had received from the rats earlier that afternoon. It had taken her, Isabella, and Heidi – as well as assistance from the maids Selena and Delani; plus Mr Devlin, who was the grounds keeper; and the butler, Hargreaves, to collectively hold back the tide of rats and uncover their nearly-established nest. Lady Hanbrook had been the one of the first to encounter the squirming rodents – and she had been in hysterics, until Isabella had slapped her friend and urged her to pull herself together. Anne Marie was not sure if that had been the right thing to do. Nevertheless, with Isabella and Lady Hanbrook co-ordinating the others, the nest was discovered to be in the derelict north wing, some rooms away from where Delani had her quarters. Using torches, the women and the staff had smoked the rats out and exterminated them all. Then the budding fires were put out before the damage became too widespread.

After the treatment of everyone's wounds, and an improvised cold dinner made by the assistant cook, Anne Marie had retreated to the library where Delani had already lit the fireplace. The sun had set outside, the curtains had been drawn to – but with the candles lit in their settings, the school teacher breathed in the surrounding scents of the wooden shelves and the texture of the book bindings. The sensations, along with the near silence, helped to calm her after the horrors of the day.

Closing her eyes, Anne Marie's mind would flash back to the book burning at the church – as well as the flood of the rats…

Shuddering with revulsion, she considered what to do next. Frowning, she pulled out the two keys she had discovered by now. The first had been underneath the large tree at the edge of the fields – when she had journeyed with Isabella and Inspector Cooke to Major Bruckner's farm. The second, more polished, key she had found in the hallway of the manor on her way to the library. She wondered if someone had dropped it. Possibly Lady Hanbrook herself. Her ladyship had brought over a book of medicine to the sitting room, in order to help 'the heroes of the hour' as she termed them, to recover from their wounds, where they were being treated and bandaged after the bites and scratches of the wriggling rodents.

Anne Marie sighed. She considered herself to be a good person – but if she was forced to declare her worst faults, she would declare them to be her lack of self-confidence, and also her tendency to secretively collect and pocket items that she found. Such as these keys.

Why would someone leave behind a key underneath the tree? Thinking back now, in light of the events that had followed, she wished she had told the inspector about her find. After the fight with the mutated dog, she had totally forgotten to do so.

Stretching her protesting muscles, Anne Marie rose and walked over to examine the contents of the library. Besides the expected books of literature, law, and nature – there was something that was entitled a 'Book of Riddles'…

After reading the puzzles within for several minutes, Anne Marie marveled at how the author was encouraging the reader to think differently. Acting on impulse, she placed it in her satchel.

 _I will return zis later, I promise…, she told herself._

Then, looking at one of the lowest shelves, tapping each of the books with her eager hands, Anne Marie discovered that one of the largest books was actually a locked case, made to look like a book.

Eyes widening, she tried the two keys she had picked up. The dull key did not fit – but the more polished key, found in the hallway, did. The now-unlocked case opened to reveal another book set inside the case. It was entitled 'Book of Town History' – and she opened it up with trembling fingers. She was certain now that the key had been dropped by Lady Hanbrook after she had emerged from the library, when she had her hysterical fit upon seeing the rats. But that prompted a question: why had the book been hidden this way?

She turned the pages, letting her intuition guide her – as was her habit. The book had been written twenty two years ago, by a local author – and it was full of various accounts of varied natures. Under a chapter labeled 'The Superstitions of Shadowbrook', Elaine Bartlett had a few pages written about her. Apparently, after being arrested for witchcraft, mesmerism had been employed by Magistrate Kroft to force the truth from Bartlett when the tortures had failed to work. Even then, she had tried to fight against confession, by the force of her strong will – but admitted to first practicing in dark magik as a child of sixteen. Her parents had already died of illness – but she had experimented with a lotion and wolf pelt, along with an accomplice. And they had succeeded in turning themselves into werewolves who attacked livestock in a village some miles further inland. The attacks stopped when local men found two wolf pelts hidden in a hollow tree in the nearby woods, and burnt them. However, the town elders were never able to force Bartlett to name her accomplice.

A note stuck inside the pages, with the words in slanted handwriting added: _"We suspected that it was her older brother, Lucien. After he joined the army, Elaine ran away from the village where she had wreaked havoc and found herself a husband from Shadowbrook, thus changing her surname from Bruckner to Bartlett._

 _There was another suspected witch in the area at the same time, as well. It was reported that she and Elaine Bruckner were friends – but went their separate ways. The identity of this second girl remains unknown. G.H."_

"Mon dieu… It fits," Anne Marie murmured to herself. So that was why, according to Victor Danforth's account, Elaine Bartlett had used her magik to transform her brother into a werewolf – and in doing so, possessed him. She was invoking the thrill of old times for them both - as she used him as her vessel of destruction and revenge against the town elders…

And George Hanbrook had written the note.

Anne Marie found a letter at the back of the book, and she read it with wide eyes. She then learnt of the killings and terror caused a year ago by the woodland spirit who had termed herself as the Delion Dryad.

" _Given that all our efforts – including mine - against her have failed, my Lord…,"_ the writer had penned, _"…May I suggest that I be given your authority to persuade Elaine to help us hunt down and fight the Dryad? I hope that she, like myself, can find redemption for her past crimes._

 _Signed: 'S'"_

There was another letter folded inside the same envelope. It had been written by Mayor Benedict Carver of Tidewater.

" _In response to the suggestion you have made, Lord Hanbrook, the woman Bartlett should certainly be coerced into fighting the Delion Dryad before she succeeds in seducing more of us elders into doing her dark work. I have already lost my harbormaster to her will – and will have to appoint a new one. I am already considering Henry Jefferson to be the most viable choice – despite the soiled reputation that hangs over him from the war._

 _However, I must press upon you the seriousness of Bartlett's heinous crimes. If she dies during our efforts to eliminate the Dryad, so be it. However, if she defeats the Dryad, I am concerned that she will use her magik to acquire the Dryad's control over nature itself. From what you have told me of the Bartlett witch, I fear that this is all too possible. Therefore, if the Dryad is defeated by your prisoner, the charges that you had promised to be dropped against her must still stand! And therefore she should be hanged…"_

"Hypocrisy… Hypocrisy revealed," Anne Marie whispered. "Ze Shadow Witch did defeat the Delion Dryad. And ze reports from Monsieur Danforth and ze outlaws… Bartlett did gain the power of control over nature. Ze wolves, ze living trees. And after her defeat of the Dryad, the town elders did _not_ drop ze charges against her, in exchange for her service. Zey hung her anyway!"

Anne Marie compared the two letters, and realized something. Major Carver had referred to the Shadow Witch contemptuously with terms such as 'the Bartlett woman' – whereas 'S' had called her 'Elaine'. And he – or she – had written personally of 'past crimes'…

"I wonder…," she breathed, tapping the text with her finger.

She jumped, startled by the passage of time as the clock above the fireplace struck the hour. Telling herself to calm down, Anne Marie's intuition pulled her towards the back of the book, which revealed a diary of events. At the end of October, last year – 1802 - Elaine Bartlett was hanged outside of the Town Hall of Shadowbrook.

Anne Marie swept her eyes across earlier events in the town's history. March 1781 was the date of the wedding between George and Josette Hanbrook. Just below that, October 1781 marked the birth of Lucy…

 _What…!?_

She read the entry again. The birth of Lucy Hanbrook had been printed as October 1781 – only for the year to be later crossed out, and replaced with 1782…

Anne Marie took in a deep breath, and slowly released it. She turned to look at the cover of the book, realizing that she had not bothered to mentally take in the author's name. If he still lived in Shadowbrook, then perhaps – after the threat had gone – she could track him down, and …

The author was one ' '.

The book fell from her suddenly-weak grasp and bounced upon the floor. She squatted down…

Voices! Outside in the corridor. Captain Townsend was asking the butler where Miss Piaget could be found…

Hurriedly, Anne Marie placed the book of town history back into the case, which she managed to re-lock in her panic. She was just putting the fake book back in its place when the butler opened the door to the library – with the tall Captain Townsend following in behind.

"There you are, Miss Piaget!" He nodded to her, taking off his tricorn hat.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice from betraying her nerves. But she already sensed that the news was not good…

Townsend nodded. "It has come to my attention that two boys in the town have gone missing, mademoiselle. Their parents have reported to my men that they have not returned from the church, where Reverend Harding was schooling them today… I was hoping that you might know something of their characters which could help locate them…"

As the Captain finished his account of what the worried mothers had told him, Isabella and Heidi appeared in the doorway.

Anne Marie nervously twisted her hands against each other. Isabella noticed this and became alert.

"More trouble, Anne Marie?" she asked in her crystal-cut voice.

"Oui, Isabella. I think I should return to town. Two of my pupils have gone missing. And…and I think I need to speak to someone. Someone who might be able to give us some light in this darkness…"

Isabella arched an eyebrow. "Then Heidi and I will come with you. My footman, Gustav, can drive a trap from here."

The Captain looked startled. "Dear ladies! Shadowbrook is likely to come under attack! You will be safer here…"

Isabella tisk-tisked him. "Actually, Captain, recent experience suggests to me that lightning is liable to strike us anywhere we may be. And I have strong nerves. I can help defend the town with a good gun and plenty of ammunition. And besides…why should MEN get to have all the fun?"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

"You can turn around now, Darcius," Katarina told him. "I don't know why you looked away. After all, you saw enough of me in the last hour."

Inspector Cooke, who was on the other side of the bars, looking in the opposite direction, scowled and coughed in irritation.

Darcius Redfern, the Scarlet Shadow, turned away from the stone wall of the cell to see his lover adjusting her pants around her waist, before taking her tricorn hat that the jailor was offering back to her.

"Well, even the jailor here was looking away whilst you were getting dressed, my dear. So one has to maintain appearances, given my class," the Shadow replied, smirking at her, glad to see that he was making her smile, if only briefly.

"I wish you hadn't lost your ring of invisibility, Darcius. We could make use of it, whilst defending the town," Katarina whispered to him.

"Alas…" The Scarlet Shadow shrugged. "Too much happened when those angry trees attacked us."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, he had declared at the abandoned keep. And the situation had evidently turned desperate, he could tell. After being reunited in his cell, he and Katarina had engaged in a…most passionate session. Katarina had taken the lead, apparently desperate to make love to him. He thought he had detected tears in her eyes during their coupling – but she had brushed aside his questions, and silenced them by locking her lips onto his. She had still been somewhat dirty after her excursion with Cooke to the keep – but her body had also been warm. Most likely as a result of being chased around the fortress, from what she told him afterwards. And her nails… He chuckled. Katarina's hands had roamed every part of him during their lovemaking, and his skin felt sore from her explorations.

And as they had lain together in the bed in the aftermath of their passion, Katarina's tears came back as she told him what had become of the rest of their gang. He felt crushed. The statue of Sloan had become animated. Kelner and Jasmine had been turned into Feral Kin, prior to being killed - and before leaving the now truly abandoned keep, Katarina had been able to account for the remaining outlaws, all torn apart by the Feral Kin, or found with their necks broken by the Sloan statue.

And now… Inspector Cooke had rushed into the gaol, along with Lord Hanbrook. The prisoners were to be released and armed. The Feral Kin had taken the covered bridge – killing half of the guards posted there in the battle, whilst Hanbrook, Cooke, and the others had ridden hurriedly back to town.

And so, whilst he – followed by Katarina - had taken a quick scrub, the Shadow saw Lord Hanbrook blanch. He had muttered something to Cooke that sounded like 'Get them to teach the locals how to shoot straight…' Then he had left.

Next came the pistols from Inspector Cooke.

"We are trusting you to help us – and not to run away. On both your honors," the uptight Inspector admonished them.

"Do not worry, Inspector Cooke," the Shadow replied. "Both Katarina and I care deeply about the welfare of Shadowbrook and its inhabitants."

"That's one of the reasons why we became outlaws in the first place." Katarina added, her eyes now sad again. "We have more honor than most people in this town…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Sophie O'Hare finally left the Doctor's office, feeling drained and apprehensive. The flood of injured refugees from the nearby hamlet of Brooksvane had been checked over. Those who had been clawed by the wolf men creatures that had stormed Brooksvane, but had escaped had displayed no signs of having their wounds infected. But it had taken a while for herself and Doctor Manning's understudy, Cochrane, to be certain from their examinations.

The herbs and potions handed to them by Inspector Jonathan Cooke and the female outlaw had been a godsend – allowing her and Cochrane to treat the unfortunate Doctor Manning and cure him of the lycanthropy that the wretched Major Bruckner had inflicted upon him. Having Theodore Manning out of action for a day, during a crisis, had been a nightmare.

Fortunately, she and Cochrane were able to keep Theodore's secret, secret. Despite the presence of extra people in the surgery – Cooke and Miss Clark; then Lord Hanbrook and poor Lucy, along with that fussy little Welsh man, and the gallant soldier…

Sophie pulled up the hood of her green cloak to shield her from the chill of the October night, as she started to walk through the torch-lit streets towards her comfortable house, bypassing the few, frightened townsfolk about as they scurried about their business. The moon was full, of course – she knew it would be. Which meant that Bruckner's pack and the Grotesque winged horrors would be bolder and deadlier in their attacks…

"Just as well we cured Theodore in time. Before he could fully transform," she sighed to herself. She would check on him in the morning. For tonight, Cochrane was staying upstairs in the surgery's spare bedroom, to watch over his senior fellow.

But then the main bedroom had been vacated. Around sunset, the soldier had charged down the stairs and into the examination room. He told her and Cochrane that he had been drugged by the Welsh inventor, and had just come to. Morgan had gone – along with Lucy Hanbrook. Had they heard them leave? And she and Cockrane had not. They had simply been too busy.

If Harlow Morgan had carried Lucy Hanbrook out of the Doctor's surgery, then he was stronger than he looked, Sophie considered. And – putting aside the why of the whole matter – where would he take her? To his rented house? She thought not – but had anyone checked there yet?

The midwife paused outside the Town Hall, remembering all too well the scene there of that day a year ago. Elaine Bartlett being led out of the nearby gaol to the gallows, falsely protesting her innocence against her crimes of witchcraft, and glaring at each of the town elders with venom, knowing some of their secrets. The look the Shadow Witch had given her in particular was the most accusing, the most hateful – and it had been a real struggle for Sophie to stop herself from running away. Instead she had stood her ground, along with the baying crowd, who had then cheered as the trap opened and Bartlett's vile mouth had been silenced.

Only Bartlett's spirit was too strong in death to leave them be for very long. Hell had rejected her – or she had struck a deal with the devil, perhaps.

The Shadow Witch wanted her and the other elders dead. And despite her aloof demeanor, Sophie O'Hare was very afraid. Afraid enough to…

 _What was going on here?_

Intrigued, Sophie approached the gathered mob of men outside the Town Hall. The rather dashing Inspector, along with his bull-headed sergeant, was inspecting the makeshift weapons that the men – citizens of the town – were holding. There was Hector Dalton, the Blacksmith, with a pair of large hammers. Next to him was the butcher with some long knives. There were even some relatively-young women with torches, pitchforks, and rolling pins. And before them was that ginger-headed outlaw, Miss Clark. She held a pistol in one hand, and was pointing with it to the uncovered body of one of the Grotesques in a cart – with the Scarlet Shadow having just pulled back the tarpaulin to expose the creature.

"I know several of you have lost loved ones. I know you are all afraid! That you think that the devil has sent creatures like this one against this town – even whilst the Shadow Witch has returned, as she promised to, here in this very square!" the young outlaw addressed the crowd in a clear, passionate voice. "But there is no point in running away. The town is under siege, and we have nowhere to go. So we can either just wait to die – or we fight back! And unlike the Reverend Harding, I will not preach anything to you of you failing the laws of God. I will only urge us all to keep our wits together, to stand together, and to fight! Fight for your children, your families, for yourselves!"

"We can survive this darkness – and we will!" the Scarlet Shadow added, punching his clenched fist into the air. "Fight back against the werewolves and the Grotesques, and the living statues. Fight. Fight. Fight!"

"Fight. Fight. Fight!" the war cry began to gather strength amongst the meager crowd as slowly, but surely, the spirits of the townsfolk were lifted out of their gloom and darkness by the reassuring speech.

Sophie smiled, and then turned to walk on home.

Pressing on, the midwife came across a group of men who, led by Captain Townsend and that tubby playwright, were rolling barrels along the puddle-streaked streets. Evidently, they were heading from the tavern, and going to…where?

Intrigued, Sophie followed them, keeping some yards behind so to avoid their attention for now. Not far from the Magistrate's office, on the eastern side of town, the men stopped where a trench had been dug by some of the still-present militia. And the trench ran in both directions as far as she could see. Now Captain Townsend was ordering the gathered rabble to pour the contents of one of the barrels into the trench, which was about a meter deep and two meters wide. The unsavory-looking lot looked reluctant to carry out the order.

"Quickly! We're not doing this for your exercise! Pour that barrel into the trench here. The other two can be poured further along the trench, that way, to the north…"

A chorus of howls broke out, making them all jump. Then Sophie saw the playwright gulp and point along the road that led out of town and towards the site of the covered bridge.

" _They're coming!_ For god's sake, landlord, get that beer into the trench!" Victor pleaded with the burly man close by.

"Alright… Losing my job better be worth it." The man rubbed his hands against the apron he was wearing, nodded to his customers, and then set about opening up the barrel before pouring the contents into the trench. Then yells rang out as the first pair of the Feral Kin appeared in the light cast by the flickering torches, running on all fours each at full pelt along the road towards them…

One slowed down and halted, nose twitching at the strong smell of the spilled beer – but the other leapt over the trench at the panicking, gathered men. Quickly, the playwright swung out with the ax that he had been holding, and managed to bash it in the head with the flat side as it cleared the trench. Stunned, the male Feral Kin fell to the ground and rolled into the alcohol-soaked trench. The mutated creature yelped its dismay.

For a moment, the fat man seemed stunned by his success – or maybe at his bravery, thought Sophie. Then the playwright gathered his wits and yelled 'Torch!'. One of the torchbearers accompanying the crowd promptly threw it into the trench. There was a 'hiss' and sudden eruption of flame. The Feral Kin screamed as it was set alight, and it died as it vainly attempted to pull itself out of the trench.

Howling its anger, the other lupine fiend turned around and ran back along the road leading to the bridge. The men cheered and slapped the playwright's shoulders.

"Well done, Mr Danforth! I like your creative thinking." The landlord smirked.

But then the Captain yelled at them to be silent as he peered along the road through a spyglass taken from his person. "Quiet! I can see the eyes of more of them. They're stalking this way… And there's a big one with them… Oh! It's you, Miss O'Hare. Yes – be my guest. Take a look for yourself."

Sophie did so, having made her approach. She made out the fearsome-looking werewolf that had to be the Major, transformed by the witchcraft of his sister. With his eyes on the barrier of flame that cut off the road's entry to the town, he was walking slowly, but steadily, on two legs. Whilst his Feral Kin slaves skulked behind.

"Bruckner…!" she spat, handing back the spyglass to Captain Townsend. Quickly making up her mind, she turned and ran over to her nearby house. Once inside, Sophie quickly grabbed a hidden, locked wooden box and placed it in her satchel. Then she sprinted as fast as she could back to the Town Hall. Already the church bell was sounding the alarm, courtesy of the sharp-eyed militia lookout posted there. The civilian squad was on the march, led by the grim-faced, but rather handsome-looking, Inspector Cooke, Sophie noted. His sergeant, the Scarlet Shadow, and his inspiring lady friend were aiding to keep the armed citizens in line as they hurried to the eastern edge of town where Victor Danforth and Captain Townsend were gathered with their men.

Panting heavily as she fished out her key for the side door of the Town Hall, Sophie made her way in and dashed inside – not bothering to relock the door, in her haste.

Before long, the midwife had emerged into the attic via the hatchway. Lighting a candle, she cleared a space amongst the junk that had been stored here over the years, and unlocked her box before spreading out her materials…

Minutes later, she finished chanting the last incantation and then applied the flame of a second candle to the ring of soil she had scattered in a circle around her cross-legged position on the wooden floor. Twisting herself on her knees in order to turn herself around, Sophie managed to light up half of the circle when…

She gasped – but managed to prevent the candle falling from her sweaty fingers.

"Put that candle down. Right now. And put out that fire you've just started," Isabella von Took ordered in a clear, icy voice, as she aimed the hunting rifle Heidi had taken from Karl's party. Next to her, Anne Marie cleared the remaining rungs of the step ladder and – with her hands now free - pulled out her pistol.

Sophie cursed herself for being so engrossed in her task that she had failed to hear the intruders coming through the gap of the hatchway – and for failing to lock the side door.

"You must let me complete the circle!" she exclaimed. "Then the town will…"

"I was not making a request!" Isabella curled her lip. "Stop your witchcraft – or I will put a bullet through you. Where it will cause damage is another matter…"

"It's you, isn't it? You're a Servant of Darkness, aren't you? Admit it!" Anne Marie added to the pressure upon the frightened-looking, blonde-haired, midwife. "You are working with either le loup garou; or ze being behind the Grotesques. You are directing the attacks with your magik here!"

"No – that's not true! This is a ritual of protection that I am conjuring… Protection for Shadowbrook," Sophie defended herself. She glared back at Isabella in defiance. "If you shoot me, the town will not receive my aid on its western side. And if the small flames here are put out, then my magik will be snuffed out also! Go…go to the east exit of the town, and find your Mr Danforth. The fire he has just set up in the trench should be burning brighter now – enough to hold back that devil, Bruckner!"

Isabella and Anne Marie shared a dubious look. Then Anne Marie spoke.

"Go, _mon amie_. I will watch over Mademoiselle O'Hare."

Isabella raised an eyebrow, but lowered the rifle.

"Perhaps you would prefer this rifle, instead of your gun…"

Anne Marie smiled and shook her head. "I am not strong enough to carry ze big guns. I am…, 'ow would you say? Lightweight."

"Very well. I aim to return soon. Heidi is guarding the side door – I will send her out as our scout," Isabella declared as she slung the attached leather strap over her head, prior to descending the ladder.

As her footsteps died away downstairs, Anne Marie lowered the pistol, but did not put it away. She felt a flush of self-pride in correctly identifying 'S' from the letter hidden in the manor's library.

"You were friends with Elaine Bruckner," she announced. "Oui?"

Sophie's face turned paler in the flickering light from the candles – both from the one she had just put down, and the earlier lit one, now set to one side of the circle. "How did you learn th-?"

"Just tell me ze truth." Anne Marie pressed her, not unkindly.

Sophie shuddered at the memories. "I lived in the next village to her and Lucien whilst growing up. Both Elaine and I had the 'gift', and we were outsiders who found certain books when… Well, that's unimportant right now. All three of us got involved in…dark arts…in order to protect ourselves from certain other people. But when Lucien acquired a pair of wolf pelts, and he and Elaine experimented turning themselves into werewolves… It was the start of the divide between us. As werewolves, their savagery towards animals sickened me. I did not betray them – but we went our separate ways. I moved away – to Shadowbrook. But then Elaine married Mr Bartlett – and her hateful brother took over a farm holding here, which he lived in, when his army duties did not take him elsewhere. But after living near Shadowbrook for several years, Elaine became greedy for greater power, for more magik. Anyone who she took a dislike to became a victim, in one way or another, of her witchcraft... Her wicked actions put a strain on her marriage – and eventually she gleefully killed her husband when he learned too much. That is the truth, Mademoiselle Piaget."

Anne Marie nodded. "And when her brother was on army duty, unable to defend her, she was captured and tortured by you town elders. She was sent to fight the terror of ze Delion Dryad. But when she defeated ze Dryad, the charges of witchcraft were not dropped – as was promised for her aid."

Sophie sighed and lowered her head. "When I realized that Elaine was the one behind the accusations of witchcraft in our township, I tracked her down and tried to persuade her away from her dark path. I thought I had succeeded at the time – but Elaine would not listen to reason. And when she killed the Delion Dryad, Elaine was somehow able to _absorb_ the wretch's powers over nature. By then it was clear that Elaine was even more dangerous. We had to have her hanged, before she caused more deaths. And I had hoped that her threat to return from death would fail to pass. Unfortunately, the return of her cat - Solomon – and…"

"…Bruckner's dog turning into a wolf-like creature, which you saw," Anne Marie reflected. "You heard that laugh – as did I. Just before the magik passed from le chat…"

"Solomon acts as a conduit for his mistress, I believe. And you heard Elaine's mocking laughter, as did I, because we are sensitive enough in spirit, Miss Piaget." Sophie gave a small smile. "Yes, I am a witch – but I consider myself to be a white witch, trying to make up for my foolish younger years by using my abilities to do what good I can for this stricken township. And despite our previous friendship, I am in no doubt that Elaine wants revenge against me as she does against the other town elders. She wishes us dead – or under her control. Nor do I know anything of the being behind those winged monsters, except for what I have learnt from others. That soldier, Mr Harrison, told me that it was a living gargoyle – a being that uses its touch to either turn people into dead husks, or into living statues! And yes, the elders know of my 'gift' – thanks to that zealot Harding catching me out once, years ago. Fortunately, the others gave me a chance to prove myself."

Anne Marie nodded. "And we are doing so with you, also, Mademoiselle O'Hare. Now, as we wait for Isabella, what can you tell me about what ze other town elders are hiding?"

Sophie gave an amused laugh that sounded almost musical. "You really need to ask each of them – there's not much I know about their secrets…"

"What about ze the fact that Lucy Hanbrook is a year older than she has been presented to be?"

Sophie gave a start, and she nervously chewed her lip. "That's not for me to say… We are a private people…and would prefer to stay that way!"

Anne Marie shook her head in exasperation and pointed her pistol at the midwife. "Do not make me use this... Isabella and I are doing what we can to get to the bottom of ze troubles that plague this town." She thought furiously. "Are the Hanbrooks even Lucy's real parents?"

Sophie hesitated – and then decided to give way, if only a little. "Blast your leading questions… Josette Hanbrook is indeed her mother. Now please, put that gun down! I really am on the side of this town – and time is of the essence if I am to set up a complete circle of protection around Shadowbrook..."

At that moment, Isabella popped up her head through the hatchway. She was panting from her sprint from the Town Hall's side door.

"Anne Marie… Heidi has reported back to me as fast as she could. "The alcohol-fuelled flames are burning higher! Apparently, Bruckner was about to take an almighty running leap over them – when they apparently flared up higher, and…and stopped him. So Mr Danforth told her…" She turned to address the midwife. "Congratulations, Miss O'Hare. It looks as if your magik has helped to potentially save lives…"

Anne Marie lowered her pistol with relief. "Bon. Complete your ritual, Mademoiselle!"

Nodding, Sophie picked up her lit candle once more and got to work. In the meantime, Anne Marie's mind was furiously going over all that she had just learnt.

"Well…" Isabella considered. "If we can indeed trust you, Miss O'Hare, Heidi and I should perhaps help to check that the fiery barriers will continue to burn around Shadowbrook. I understand that the trench is all around the perimeter of the town."

Sophie nodded. "My magik will extend the life of the fire – whilst it still has fuel to burn. I have not rested or eaten since my work at the surgery, but I will stay here to watch over my circle of fire." Her gaze shifted to the schoolteacher. "And you, Mademoiselle? What will you do now?"

Anne Marie considered this. Putting down her pistol, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a sealed flask of cleaned water and some wrapped provisions. "I offer you these as an apology, Mademoiselle O'Hare. And now… I have the disappearance of two of my school pupils to address…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

Lucy Hanbrook awoke from her disturbed, feverish dreams – only to discover that the real world had its own deeply unpleasant sensations to offer her. Her tongue and mouth were dry, and as her vision gradually cleared she discovered that the bedroom she had been vaguely aware of before had now been replaced by a cave. Water was dripping somewhere, and the air was cooler here – but she was still sweating madly.

The young woman shifted, and tried to rise – only to collapse again. There was a flickering candle nearby to provide soft light, and Lucy saw that she was lying on the blanket that had covered her when she had been resting in that bed. Or had that been a dream…?

Her bones ached madly, and she cried out – convulsing as a jolt of agony swept through her. As the pain receded and she gasped for breath, Lucy became aware that something else was different. Managing to push the blanket aside, she…

 _Wait… I am…_ undressed _?_

Darting her eyes around, Lucy felt a surge of relief hit her. Her shoes and clothes were neatly arranged in a pile, close by. Then, trembling, Lucy felt for the Gargoyle's Stone Touch upon her chest – and found it missing.

With wide eyes, she looked along her slender frame towards her left leg. That too was now a healthy pink color – though she felt the skin to be warm. She really did have a fever.

"Water… I need water…," she croaked. Turning herself round, Lucy could see the pool close by – and she started to pull herself, inch by inch, towards it with her faltering strength. All she then had to do was to dip her tongue in the fresh water and lap it up…

 _Lap it up?_ She frowned, puzzled by the impulsive thought that had entered her head. _I am not some d-_

Her nostrils flared. Someone had entered the cave! With a burst of adrenalin, she twisted round on her hands and feet - and bared her teeth, ready to defend herself and her territory…

 _Territory…? Dear lord! What is happening to me!?_

She froze, seeing Harlow Morgan the inventor crouching at the mouth of the small cave. He held himself still and stared at her over the top of his spectacles. Stared her down…

"We do not have time to fight, Lucy!" he bristled at her. "I am here to help you." And with that he opened his hands, to reveal four dead rats. Four large rats. At first, Lucy was repulsed by the sight of them, and she squirmed. But then something inside of her found herself being drawn to them. She could smell their blood on them…

"Wh-?"

"I went out to gather some food. Some berries. But I came across a nest of rats in the woods. If I hadn't dealt with them, they would've swarmed out and possibly headed to Shadowbrook. I suppose they're another of the Shadow Witch's amusements. From what I understand, she acquired some of the powers of something called the Delion Dryad. Powers that include control over nature. But let's see to your fever, dear girl…"

Harlow strode into the cave. His short frame helped him to avoid stooping over once he had passed through the entrance. Dumping the dead rats on a rock, he opened up a leather bag he had brought with him and took out a sponge. Dipping it into the pool he approached Lucy.

"No! Keep back… Why did you undress me…?" she whimpered.

"Because I knew you would break out into a fever. And because your clothes would be ruined if…" Harlow bit his lip and sighed. "My intentions are honorable, Miss Hanbrook. The only sin I have committed against you is the fact that I have cursed you. But, in doing so, it was the only way to save you from becoming a statue – such as Mr Harrow, so your friend told me."

"You cured me? And you cursed me…?" Lucy felt the sweat drip down her face. "Thomas! I remember – he got turned to stone, whilst protecting me… Karl! Where's Karl? I want to s- _Aagghh!_ "

Lucy convulsed and fell forwards, collapsing upon the cave floor. Dipping his sponge into the pool again, he hurried over and dabbed her face, back, and limbs. Then he squeezed her hand.

"The first time is the worst. After that it gradually gets better, as you gain experience and slowly build up control," he told her. "I am sorry so for bringing this agony upon you. You remind me so much of my lost daughter – and I want to save the life of an innocent lady this time, so that I can repent for my past errors, you see…"

"You feel warm…" Lucy panted. She watched as Harlow sat down upon a rocky shelf and unbuckle his shoes. Then her eyes widened. The inventor was now not only removing his coat and lace cravat, he was fully undressing himself – leaving his spectacles for last, as he folded his clothes next to hers. She realized that Harlow was also looking flushed. And sweating…

"How did you save me from the Gargoyle's stone touch?" she snapped at him. "Where is Karl? Where are we, Mr Morgan? What do you mean about your daughter? Did…did you kill her? Did…? Oh, dear lord. Did you kill other people? Did you hurt Karl!?"

"Deary me. So many leading questions," Harlow muttered. "I'll try to answer them as best I can, Miss Hanbrook – given that we're short of time. I saved you by giving you a blood transfusion. You are free of the…Gargoyle's…curse on you – but now you are about to become the same as me. Do not worry about your soldier friend. I rendered him unconscious. Next, I dashed over to my house using my skeleton key to pick up what I needed, such as this bag with a sponge and a change of clothes – then headed back to the Doctor's surgery. I placed my leather bag in your lap and wrapped you up in the bed blanket, before carefully carrying you downstairs and sneaking out of the back door. Luckily, no one was around to question my actions. And, by referring to an old map, I used an abandoned, forgotten tunnel to sneak underneath the trench and barriers being set up around Shadowbrook. The town is under siege by those winged creatures and…"

"A tunnel? But if the town is under siege, then…"

"The entrances are well-hidden, I assure you." Harlow held up a hand, before he removed his long johns and crouched down to hide his manhood from Lucy. "As to where we are, this is a cave on the edge of the olde woods, close to the River Shadow. It was marked on the old map I referred to. I suspect it was used by smugglers, many years ago. No one else seems to know about it – not even Major Bruckner and the woodland thugs he associates with…"

Harlow winced and yelped, as the familiar pain suddenly shot through him. He arched his back and slumped against the rocks. Lucy then mirrored his actions, as a tremor racked through her slender, youthful frame. All of her bones and muscles ached. Her skin was itching madly all over. She felt as if something was growing inside her – coming to the surface of her being. Wanting to break out and…be free.

"It hurts so much…," she gasped. Lucy raised her head to face Harlow again. "Your daughter…!"

"The story of my Harriett will have to wait for another time, dear Lucy," he moaned as he removed his glasses and placed them on top of his clothes. "I caused her death, may God forgive me! And I hope that you can forgive me for what I've done to you and to this town. You see, I tried to save that woman. Agnes Agnew, I mean. Tried to save her from Bruckner and some of his gang. But I failed. And I infected that wicked man. Made him _worse_ …"

Lucy gave another cry. Then her gaze became fixed upon her painful hands. They were becoming _distorted_. The hands were stretching, the skin of her palms was turning thicker, harder, and the fingers were shortening. Her nails were lengthening into…

….claws. Sharp claws.

Sucking in her breath, Lucy felt her itching bare arms – wincing as she scratched herself. Despite the gloom of the cave, her vision suddenly seemed to be turning sharper – and she saw, and felt, the rapid growth of many hairs on her skin. Gingery-brown hairs that were now emerging on her arms, her legs, her chest and stomach – and even on her face.

"Nooo!" Her voice was already changing, developing the timber of a panicking animal. Lucy feverish pulled herself over to the pool, and saw her reflection by the torchlight. Through a hole in the cave roof here, Lucy could see the evening sky above – and she had enough light to watch in horror as her reflection's ears gradually shifted upwards and grow animal-like points. Watched, and felt, her nose broaden and turn leathery. Lucy gasped as her breasts shrank and became covered by her sprouting coat of rough, warm fur. Then she felt the emergence of her new budding… _teats…_ below her chest. Next, Lucy felt her cranial hair receding, before it mixed with the emergent fur on her neck and face.

She remembered the phase of the moon that she had glimpsed through one of the windmill's windows, last night. It had been nearly full.

"Werewolf… You're a werewolf, Mr Morgan! And now…I'm one too!" Lucy wailed. She turned to see Harlow Morgan – who was undergoing the same metamorphosis, though in a somewhat-smoother, less painful fashion. His whole body was now changing its entire framework into that of a man-sized wolf. His brown pelt of fur was cloaking him – and his lupine scent hit her nostrils.

"Do not…forget whho yuu arr…, Lu-cee," Harlow growled as his furred face was reshaped by the growth of his muzzle and his lupine ears. "Do nnot ffight…the w-wolf… But make her…accept yuu…"

Lucy tried to come to terms with that advice. But it was a struggle, as her body and mind continued to warp and twist into the beast that she was becoming. The pressure at the base of her spine gave way to a growing, twitching tail that was soon covered by the fur spreading across her back. Her fever peaked, along with the rage of the wolf breaking free from the restraints of her sheltered, human life – and she opened her now fully-grown muzzle, slapping her long, drooling tongue against her new fangs, as Lucy Hanbrook gave vent to her pain – and her joy - with a long howl that was joined by one from the male wolf, as she marked the moment of her birth into a new life…

Collapsing upon the cave floor once more, Lucy panted, her newly-grown whiskers around her mouth tasting the air, taking in the fine musk of her companion – the one who had made her. Who had freed her.

The scents of the pool and the dead rats made her drool. Even now, she realized that her saliva was infectious. But she was trying to remember who she was…

With a nudge from the black nose of her companion, Lucy Hanbrook rose upon her four paws as a fully-fledged, woman-sized wolf. And at a nod from her maker, she dived upon the slain rodents and tore into them with her sharp teeth, to take the edge off her furious newfound hunger…


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen:**

 **Brilliant Deduction**

 **Shadowbrook:**

With Isabella having left the Town Hall with Heidi to help the defense of the town, Anne Marie considered her next move. She needed to speak to Reverend Harding about the disappearance of the two boys – but after the book-burning hysteria, earlier in the day, she felt scared to return to the church.

And then an idea came to her, as she thought of someone else.

 _But if HE was there…_

Feeling a girlish smile spread across her face, despite the events of the day, the schoolteacher hurried over to the tavern.

She did not have long to wait. Fortunately, the barmaid who had been left behind to look after the tavern in the absence of the men was able to serve her with weak ale. Anne Marie was not in the habit of drinking alcohol that often – and she wanted to keep her wits about her.

When an exhausted-looking Victor Danforth entered the tavern (still clutching his ax), to head back to his room, she intercepted him. His expression brightened upon seeing her.

"Why, Mademoiselle Piaget! It is good to meet you again!"

"And you also, Monsieur Danforth." Anne Marie leaned in close so that not even the solitary barmaid could hear her. "But I require some help. And since you were such ze gentleman in protecting me from zat vile Major Bruckner…"

After she had finished her account, Victor turned pale again. "Oh – I was rather hoping to rest… But, ah-uhm!" He cleared his throat. "Clearly, duty calls. Again. Very well, my dear. I will escort you in your meeting with the Reverend Harding! This should be a simple task for someone of MY talents! It seems that the reverend is not of sound mind, if you ask me. Burning books of knowledge! That is sacrilege, Mademoiselle Piaget!"

Anne Marie patted his shoulder, feeling a connection to the tubby playwright. "Thank you, Monsieur Danforth. But may I call you Victor? I would prefer zat you call me Anne Marie, after all…"

Victor felt something inside of him melt at the sight of the Frenchwoman's beaming smile. "Why not? Let's get to work, Anne Marie…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Church:**

Minutes later, the pair of them had arrived at the church, on the western side of Shadowbrook. From the elevated position on the small hill that it laid on, Anne Marie could see that the trench that had been dug during the day now almost encircled the town in its entirety. Where it did not, wagons and upturned carts completed the defensive shield. Militia – aided by the citizens that Inspector Cooke, Sergeant Allardyce, Katarina, and the Scarlet Shadow had hurriedly been training – manned the approaches to the town. Lookouts, such as the one still in the church tower, were on guard to watch for any appearance of the enemy – whether they be the wolf creatures that had taken the covered bridge, or the winged Grotesques of last night.

The scout challenged them as Anne Marie and Victor approached the church entrance – and the schoolmistress stated their business.

"Aye. I heard tell that two boys had disappeared. Ross and Nathaniel they're called," the scout shouted back down. "Before I took over watch here, me an' the Captain searched all around the church and the vicarage – despite the reverend's indignation. We didn't find any sign o' them!"

"Thank you. Where is ze reverend now?" Anne Marie responded. Her heart sank, remembering that it was not long ago that she got Ross to apologize to Gillian in her classroom. And yet so much had happened since then…

"Saw 'arding going into the church 'bout a quarter hour ago, Miss. He was carrying a cat in with 'im. Don't know why…" And with that, the soldier returned to his watch.

Anne Marie frowned. "Un chat…? Not the one I saw at the farm, I hope…!" she muttered.

"Oh, holy mother…!" Victor gasped out loud.

Anne Marie turned to him. "Victor? What is it…?"

"Loo-look at the decorations on the roof! I never paid attention before…"

Following his gaze, Anne Marie raised her face again to take in the church roof. The architect had built Shadowbrook's church in the Gothic style such as cathedrals in the old continent of Europe. It was a stylish roof – complete with gargoyles.

Only from their vantage point from the south west of the church, Anne Marie and Victor could see that several of the gargoyles were missing. Wait – Anne Marie told herself, her mind now racing. They were _not_ acting as drain spouts – so they were not gargoyles. Instead, they were called…

"Mon dieu!" she slapped a hand against her temple. " _Grotesques!_ But… Ze elements… Zey must have worn the others away…," the schoolmistress reasoned.

"No… The few remaining are complete." Victor gulped and held onto his ax. "Let's find Reverend Harding. And right now I don't care if he objects to me bringing a weapon into the house of God…!"

But although the heavy door was unlocked, and there were candles burning in the church, there were only an elderly couple present. They had been praying at the altar for deliverance, and were now on their way out. Before they left, the wife confirmed that she had glimpsed Reverend Harding coming into the church with a cat tucked under one arm – a cat that seemed agitated. Harding had disappeared into a small chapel in the corner that was separated from the rest of the church by a wooden divider and door. A locked door.

"Reverend 'arding? Ze wish to talk to you," Anne Marie called out with trepidation.

Her only answer was silence.

"Is he asleep, or …dead?" Anne Marie turned pale at the morbid thought.

Victor squatted to look through the keyhole, and huffed. "I cannot see anything! The key must still be in the hole… Wait! Yes – there's a gap at the base of the door! Fetch me some paper, please, Anne Marie."

"Oh…!" She looked around at what was available, and grabbed one of the prayer books before ripping out a sheet.

Victor stared at her in disbelief. "But you were upset at the burning of those books…!"

"It ees a blank sheet!" she offered in her defense. "Besides… Ze reverend deserves this little act of retribution."

"Dash it! Slip it under the keyhole, please. Then move aside."

She did so, voicing her understanding of his plan. Victor took several paces back, before sprinting at the door. Twisting his shoulder into the wooden door, he got the key to shake. Victor winced and flexed his bruised shoulder – but repeated the procedure. On his second bash the key fell from the keyhole and landed on the prayer book sheet, which Anne Marie managed to pull back towards her as she got down on the stone floor again. With a cry of delight, she sprang up and unlocked the door.

The small private chapel was candle-lit, but empty. There were no other obvious exits.

"Is he a witch?" Victor exclaimed in puzzlement.

"Ze term would be 'warlock' for a man," his companion declared. She walked into the chapel and carefully studied the floor. Finally, crouching down next to the altar, Anne Marie straightened up with something in her hand. "Hair of le chat," she breathed. "It ees ginger – not that of le chat I saw at the farm. Zat is a relief… Help me look for ze secret door, Victor!"

Putting down his ax, the playwright assisted the school teacher in tapping the frames next to where the cat hair was found. Soon, next to a fitted bookshelf, they found a panel that sounded hollow. Moving what turned out to be a fake book resulted in a click, and the panel swung open to reveal a dark alcove. Peering inside, the pair of investigators saw a stone staircase leading to one side, running underneath the church. They looked at each other, startled to hear the faint sound of a violin. There was also the smell of…

"…sulfur?" Anne Marie ventured. "Well, we 'ad better investigate."

"Oh, lord… Must we?" Victor quivered.

"You said it should be a simple task for you to protect me whilst I confronted the reverend." The schoolteacher cracked a smile at him. She took a candle from the altar and placed it on a provided candle tray, to help provide more light for their descent. "Let us proceed. We mustn't linger!"

"Er… Um…" Gulping, Victor gestured at the secret passage before them as he kept a tight grip on the ax.

"Yes, Victor?"

"That amulet of invisibility that I picked up from the Scarlet Shadow… I tried earlier – but I cannot get it to work again! Blast it. We could have used it here!"

"Magik…? Never mind, Victor. We will venture down together…"

"Y-… You go first!"

Anne Marie sighed. "Well, I 'ave ze candle, after all… Don't run away, will you?"

With an effort, Victor stopped his face from twitching. "I'll be…right behind you!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The door at the bottom of the staircase was already wide open. Finding themselves to be in a crypt, the pair took fright at what lay before them – and they ducked behind a tomb in one of the nearest alcoves. The sulfur was coming from a bowl of the yellow powder hung above a bracket that held a burning torch. Hurriedly, Anne Marie blew out her candle to avoid their shadows from giving them away.

In the main space of the crypt, Reverend Harding was sat on a short stool, to the right-hand side of his visitors' line of vision. He paused in his violin playing and appraised the creature lying on a bed of straw strewn out across the floor before him. Seeing the eyes flicker and the pointed tail twitch, the vicar resumed his slow, mournful tune.

The being was a blue-white colored, domed-headed, gargoyle that was the size of a man. That was if it did not have the bat-like wings which added to its full mass, Anne Marie told herself, as she stared at the monstrosity in the available light provided by the torch on the wall. And now, the gargoyle's eyes closed again as it settled into slumber. The taloned hands released what it had been holding. The dried-up husk of a ginger cat.

Anne Marie made a gagging noise – and she immediately clamped a hand over her mouth before she could scream her horror. She, along with Victor, had also just spied the other husk that was present – this one being the remains of a nine-year old boy, lying discarded at the left-hand side of the crypt, behind the sleeping form of the gargoyle.

"Oh no…," Victor muttered, his voice too soft for Harding to hear above his violin playing. The playwright tapped Anne Marie's shoulder, gaining her attention. With a trembling finger raised for silence, Victor pointed behind him – to Anne Marie's far left. She craned her neck to see the huddled, frightened form of another nine-year old boy, who was leaning against the base of the corner wall, screaming as he held his arms up, as if staring at them in horror.

Only his scream was a silent one. He was a gray statue.

It took a mighty will of effort for Anne Marie not to wail her despair. Instead, she covered her mouth again with her free hand, as the implications sank in. Nathaniel was clearly now dead, and…

"Ross… He ees now a statue!" she whispered to Victor, as Harding played on. Was the music keeping the gargoyle asleep? Anne Marie wondered…

Victor paled, remembering what he had heard of the statue in Harlow Morgan's workshop. How it had come alive and attacked Anne Marie and her companions. "So what do we do? Confront the reverend?" he suggested.

"I suppose so." Anne Marie tried to control the pounding of her heart. "Tres bien… Let us do this together!"

But as soon as they stepped up from behind the tomb, the Reverend Harding abruptly dropped his bow and violin, and swiftly drew out a pistol from inside his cloak.

"Drop your weapon, you Frog!" he spat.

Nerves – and the insult – overcame Anne Marie's resolve. She quickly dropped her pistol. Seeing the town elder also covering him with his gun, Victor gulped and carefully placed his ax on the stone floor also. Both of them, upon Harding's order, raised their hands.

Despite her terror, Anne Marie's mind was racing. "So… You are working with zis Gargoyle! Ze being responsible for the Grotesques and the Living Statues! Why?"

Victor felt his lips go dry. He swallowed and forced himself to speak too. "And why…were you playing music to it, whilst it…ate?"

"The Gargoyle is demanding more food, in order to increase its strength for the work it must do!" Harding's eyes blazed at them as he snapped back. He glanced at the creature. "It has a dangerous temper – but I have learnt that music does indeed sooth the beast."

"It 'as killed those two boys! Zey were under your protection today!" Anne Marie blurted angrily.

"Master Ross and Master Nathaniel must have sneaked into the chapel during a break time in my Sunday School today. They evidently found the secret door, and ventured down here. The Gargoyle has judged them to be wicked – and punished them accordingly!" Harding shouted back at her. "It has fed on Nathaniel, and now his soul lies in God's hands. As for Ross… He has been given a second chance. Soon, he will serve as another protector of the town. He will assist his new kindred and the…Grotesques…to cast out the sinners – and fight back against the army of beasts that SHE has sent to slaughter us!"

" 'She'… You mean the Shadow Witch. Elaine Bartlett," Victor conjectured.

"Of course I mean Bartlett!" Harding bristled, his expression turning thunderous. "The Devil himself has sent her back from hell to plague us, after her death – dammit! And her pack of creatures will kill the innocent of this town, as well as…"

"And ze Grotesques and ze Living Statues? Have they not killed the innocent?" Anne Marie pressed him. "What about those were attacked – even killed – last night, by the Grotesques?"

The pistol in Harding's right hand shook slightly. "They must have been attacked because they had sinned," he reasoned. "With its power, the Gargoyle gave life to the grotesques on my church… Turned them into its vessels to punish the sinners of Shadowbrook. The Gargoyle will not kill the innocent…"

"Is that what…it told you?" Victor asked, choosing his words carefully. Despite his fear, he was trying to read into the expression and words of the reverend – and what he was gleaming so far was not reassuring him.

"It did. The Gargoyle knows of dark forces that are hiding near this town. It has warned me. But first there is Bartlett to deal with, and there is a matter that I want t-"

"Pardon, Reverend Harding…" Anne Marie shared a worried look with Victor. "But we are…confused. How long have you been harboring this…magnificent beast? How did you come across it? Does anyone else know…?"

"No one else knows! I am a single man – and I maintain the church myself, whilst the verger sees to the graveyard. This creature is my secret! _Mine!"_ Harding suddenly fell silent after his outburst. When he spoke again, it was with a calmer manner. "Magnificent…? Yes. I am glad that you see the beauty in the living protector of this church, Miss Piaget!" He lowered his weapon slightly. "Very well. I discovered this creature a few months ago, when I discovered a tunnel leading off from this crypt. It was wounded. It had escaped from captivity from the evil ones who had created it for their foul purposes – the ones who are plotting to take over this town. They have plans, terrible plans…"

"Who are 'they' ?" Victor interrupted.

"They are called the Order of the Crimson Hand, Mr Danforth." The reverend's eyes were now full of fear. "After hearing what the Gargoyle had to tell me, I made inquiries… Discreet inquiries. They support the Gargoyle's testimony. The Order is somewhere active in this area. They must be stopped before the Ancient One and its demons – those whom the Order bow to - fill the countryside…" He trailed off, lost in the horrific vision of the dreadful story he had learned.

"Um… Why have you not told the other town elders, reverend? Get them to help you…," suggested Victor.

"Because I had been informed that one of my fellow elders is working for the Order of the Crimson Hand! My informant was murdered soon after he had posted his letter of warning to me," Harding spat. "And their influence runs deep. This agent might have already spread their corruption to any of the other elders!"

"You spoke of…a separate matter?" Anne Marie asked, wishing that she could lower her hands.

Harding's expression hardened. "Yes… I want the Gargoyle to deliver justice upon the murderer of the previous reverend. My father!"

Victor shuffled his feet nervously. "Ahh… I am sorry to hear that… Um. When was this? What…happened?"

"Twenty years ago! He was poisoned when my since-deceased mother and I were separated from him, during the Revolutionary War. But over the years I have found that he had been paying money to one of the other town elders of Shadowbrook … No – I do not know why! I had hoped that whoever it was would have confessed to me by now. And when Bartlett was our prisoner, I got her to use her powers to read the minds of the other elders. She discovered their identity - but she would not tell me who the culprit was, without us guaranteeing her freedom from the gallows – damn her! Now, when this crisis is over – I must capture the other elders, one by one, and bring them to the Gargoyle. It will smell the guilt of my father's murderer, and…"

"Mon dieu…," Anne Marie whispered, thinking of what she had learned over the past twenty four hours. Could it really be that…?

Harding frowned at her. "Yes? Speak up!"

But they were interrupted by the Gargoyle snorting. Victor yelped as the creature opened one eye – then the other. It stirred, and flexed its wings and powerful arms as it shifted onto its knees.

" _You Have Disturbed Me With Your Prattle, Harding…"_

Anne Marie and Victor both winced at the mental intrusion. They exchanged a look of surprise as they realized that the Gargoyle had communicated to them all without words.

Harding momentarily bowed his head at his ally. "My apologies, my friend. These people have discovered us. They were searching for the boys."

The Gargoyle hissed and glanced at the husk of Nathaniel. It gave a mocking smile. _"The Small Human Made For A Satisfying Meal. He Gave Me The Energy To Turn His Companion Into…Another Protector From Our Enemies… As For You Pair, You Will Also Serve As My…Servants!"_ It got up upon its taloned feet.

"What!? You mean…you plan to turn us into living statues? But I was planning to lose weight – not gain it!" Victor wailed. He cast a pleading look at the reverend.

Harding shrugged. "My secret must remain a secret! Once you have both been…converted…you will serve in the defense of this church and this town. The Order of the Crimson Hand will not be able to corrupt you! Consider yourselves fortunate to be so honored!"

"No! Wait!" Anne Marie yelled. "I… I think I might know who killed your father!"

There was a sneering look of disbelief on the clergyman's face. "How could you possibly…?"

"I listen to what I am told! And I remember…" Anne Marie swallowed hard. "There ees a man in Shadowbrook who has access to poisons. He was 'ere, in town, twenty years ago. He can provide details of anyone he could 'ave been acting for, if you allow me to persuade him…"

"Who is this?"

"Harlow Morgan – ze inventor."

"A man of 'science'? This dangerous path of malady that lures men away from god! A man who does not even turn up to worship the good Lord at church! Ha!" Harding spat his fury. "Very well! Do not bless them with your stone touch yet, Gargoyle. I will escort Miss Piaget to Morgan's residence, and see what information he has to yield."

The Gargoyle hissed its frustration, but yielded. _"So Be It… I Will Watch Over This Human. Even If He Cannot Become My Latest Toy, He May Yet Amuse Me!"_

"B-but the town is under siege! If you are meant to be protecting Shadowbrook…" Victor tried to argue.

"He has a point," Harding concurred. "We must be prepared to unleash our forces very soon!"

" _I Will Personally Venture Out And Judge The Battlefield For Myself,"_ the Gargoyle announced, after some consideration. _"Therefore…"_

The creature closed its eyes. There was a ripple of invisible energy that Anne Marie and Victor felt pass through the air from the being to…

They turned round to face where the pulse had gone to. Moments later, they gasped and clutched at each other as the statue of Ross flexed its gray hands. The eyes lit up with a gleaming white light. Then with a grating noise, the Ross-statue rose to its feet. It reached for the dropped ax and pistol and tossed both of them into the corner of the crypt. Then it grinned at the prisoners, revealing its stone teeth.

Harding nodded in satisfaction. "Mr Danforth – you will stay here with Master Ross as your keeper! Miss Piaget and I are leaving."

" _As Am I…"_ The Gargoyle retreated into the shadows of the far side of the crypt, and disappeared from their view.

Anne Marie looked frightened as she was led away by Harding, who pressed the point of his pistol into her back as he walked immediately behind her. Within seconds, they had headed back upstairs and left Victor alone with the statue of Ross – who had now slowly stepped forward to guard the entrance to the crypt.

Victor slumped against the side of the tomb and slid down to rest his wobbly legs. He took out his handkerchief and pressed it against the sweat on his face.

"Oh, holy mother…!"

Amongst his many fears filling his head, Victor clung onto one image of hope – something that the unhinged Harding had evidently missed.

As she had been led away, the trembling Anne Marie had glanced at the playwright and had actually mustered up the courage to wink at him…

After several minutes, Victor's pounding heart relaxed a little. The Gargoyle had not reemerged from the shadows. So it had truly left the crypt. But how? Was it able to disappear like a ghost, or…

"Of course…," Victor muttered. "Harding said that he discovered it in a tunnel leading from here. It's been using that tunnel…to come and go, at night. And no one in the town has reported seeing it, otherwise Captain Townsend and that Inspector would have taken action. Therefore, that tunnel comes out in the countryside… Oh, no…!"

He hurriedly got to his feet, and took a deep breath. Then, trying to move without drawing attention to himself, he slowly walked towards the shadows of the crypt where the Gargoyle had disappeared.

Then was the noise of slow, pounding steps. Victor turned round. His eyes grew wide as he saw that the statue had picked up Anne Marie's pistol and leveled it at him. The statue of the boy snarled silently at him.

Victor gulped and sidestepped back towards the middle of the crypt. The statue's snarl faded away, and it took the few, heavy steps back to its post at the entrance to the crypt. The pistol was not lowered, but Victor was no longer being aimed at – so long as he kept away from the shadows…

"Dash it!" he cursed.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

The wall-mounted torches and the brazier burning in the Town Hall square provided the light for the journey for Anne Marie. Unfortunately, that was not enough light for the few, hurrying, citizens who were passing by on the streets to see that the Reverend Harding was frog-marching the schoolteacher.

"Please… Stop pressing your gun against my back ribs!" Anne Marie protested, just loud enough for only her captor to hear. "You are a man of God! Why are you…?"

"…doing this? I dare not take risks, woman! For all I know, you may be an agent for the Order of the Crimson Hand. Now stop your whinging – and take me to Morgan!" Harding rasped.

Minutes later, Anne Marie paused before the door to Harlow's workshop. Hoping that he would be able to help her in her moment of need, she knocked on the door. When nobody answered. She tried again. Still silence.

 _So now it was time to take a gamble…,_ she thought to herself. _Her wild back-up plan._

"He's not here…"

"Un moment, monsieur! Let me try something…"

Harding curled his lip. "All right. No tricks, woman!"

Shaking, Anne Marie pulled out her purse and retrieved the key she had found underneath the tree at the edge of the fields. She slipped it into the keyhole and tried to turn it…

The door unlocked.

Placing a hand over her mouth to stiffen her exclamation, Anne Marie walked into the unlit workshop. Luckily, there was a candle and matches on the nearest table, close to the window where some light from the street managed to pierce the gloom before them. Anne Marie lit the candle.

"As I said… He's not here!" Harding's anger was all too clear.

Anne Marie thought furiously. "I 'ave seen the desk where he records his financial transactions," she declared, trying to sound convincing in her lie. She strode forward into the workshop, making sure that she kept to one side of the rug… "Allow me to find it for you…"

"Not so fast, Frog! I want to see the contents of those drawers at the same time as y-AAGGHH!"

Anne Marie spun round, just in time to see the reverend stepping onto the rug and disappearing into the gap in the floorboards. But as he cried out, Harding fired his pistol.

The bullet ricocheted. Anne Marie yelped as her shoulder was grazed by the shot. Feeling overcome by the shock, she collapsed to the floor on her knees and pressed her hand against the wound.

"You… _imbecile_!" she cried at Harding.

For a moment she wasn't sure what to do next. Then Anne Marie heard someone coming through the still-unlocked doorway. She was surprised to see that it was the bearded, green-clad soldier who came to her rescue at the school, and who she had last seen at the manor.

"Monsieur Harrison…?" she gasped.

He nodded to her and locked the door behind him. "Miss Piaget. You are wounded…"

"I am fine… Do not step into…!"

"This trap. Yes. I see it. Why are you and the injured Reverend Harding here?" Karl asked.

"Don't give 'arding a chance to reload! He is…unhinged!" Anne Marie panted.

"Don't worry, Miss Piaget. I can see that his Reverence seems to have twisted his ankle, to look at him. His pistol is also out of his reach."

"Get me out of here!" Harding hollered at the younger man.

"I think not, sir. I watched you pair from the street as I approached this place, and your movements struck me as suspicious. Right now, I want to hear the story from Miss Piaget first." Edging past the sprung pit trap, Karl helped Anne Marie into a chair and looked around for something to use as a pad for the gunshot wound.

Many minutes later, she reached the end of her account regarding what she and Victor had discovered in the church.

"I know it sounds incredible, but it ees true…," she finished.

"I know it's true. I have met this Gargoyle," Karl declared. He was leaning back against one of the workbenches. Some wreckage from the fight of the previous night was still present, Anne Marie noted. "But what also interests me is how you got into this workshop with that key you found."

"It was just a suspicion…" Anne Marie gave a weak smile and pointed at the astronomy charts on the wall near to Karl. "Monsieur Morgan was keeping track of the phases of the moon! My party worked out that the attack upon ze farm was the work of a werewolf. The same creature that evidently attacked Major Bruckner at the olde woods. For a key to have been left behind at that tree, close to ze farm… I wondered if it had been the werewolf in human form, undressing, making his attack – and then returning to his clothes afterwards. Only to depart in 'aste after his failed raid, leaving his key behind by accident." She paused. "We were with Monsieur Morgan last night. He must 'ave opened his workshop up with a spare key."

"Monster… A monster in our midst!" Harding shrieked. "That…scientist…brought this plague upon us? He and all of his kind must be slain, before more are infected – or Shadowbrook is doomed! We mus-"

"Shut up, you fanatic!" Karl peered down into the pit at the vicar. "Right now, I need Mr Morgan alive! He has…" He trailed off, frowning. Then, hurriedly pulling out a sketchpad from his satchel he compared a picture inside it with the Reverend Harding.

"What is it?" the schoolteacher asked.

"Have a look for yourself, Miss Piaget. Tell me your observations," Karl instructed her as he passed the picture to her.

"Please… Call me Anne Marie." She smiled.

"Anne Marie it is, then. I'm Karl."

Anne Marie stood next to Karl and studied the sketch. It was a good portrayal of a smiling Lucy Hanbrook – her head and shoulders filling the page as she held a bunch of wildflowers, whilst the bright sunlight lit up her face.

The schoolteacher's eyes widened as they shifted from the sketch portrait to the slumped figure of Reverend Harding. His red face glared at them, his white wig now askew on his head. But the blue eyes and the nose were similar to…

"When we were in ze Town Hall… Ze Scarlet Shadow said your father had an affair! Who with?" Anne Marie fired at him.

"I do not know! I have heard this before! 'tis lies. Slander! No proof was ever presented to me…," Harding ranted.

"He also said even the elders not present had their secrets…," Anne Marie muttered to herself – though Karl was paying close attention. "And I saw evidence of a changed record at ze manor. Lucy is a year older than she 'as been officially declared to be…"

"I have learnt of this, as well! I have not had time to question Lord Hanbrook about it. But he and his wife must have ordered Lucy's date of birth to be changed, because they were not married at the time of Lucy's conception…" Karl stiffened. He faced Harding. "Did you christen her, Harding?"

"My father was the reverend when Miss Hanbrook was born. But her parents had her christened in the next parish! I do not know the reason!"

"Mon dieu… I think I know why…" Anne Marie shivered with revulsion. She stared down at the reverend with pity. "It's time I taught you a lesson. The Hanbrooks would not allow your father to christen baby Lucy, because he made Lady Hanbrook pregnant. He is Lucy's father. Lucy Hanbrook is your half-sister!"

"A brilliant deduction, Miss Piaget," Karl complimented her.

To Karl's – and Anne Marie's – satisfaction, the reverend was shocked into silence. When he did speak again, he sounded bitter, broken.

"My father was poisoned… I know it was one of the other elders! Could it be that it was Lord Hanbrook? Or Lady Han-?"

"That's not our problem right now! My priority is rescuing Victor from that Living Statue acting as his captive guard – and stopping zat Gargoyle from committing further horrors," Anne Marie cut the reverend off.

"And, important as that is, my priority is to track down Harlow Morgan! He has taken Lucy out of the town," Karl declared. "I tried to get out of Shadowbrook myself – but the flames and the barriers prevented me. And although I asked all of the militia that I could stop, none of them had seen Mr Morgan carrying Lucy away…"

"But he must be the werewolf who infected Major Bruckner! He will transform tonight! Is he planning to kill Lucy?" asked Anne Marie.

"No. He saved her life earlier today. Saved her from the curse of stone, which _your_ blasted Gargoyle has used to turn my friend Thomas into a statue, Reverend Harding!" Karl turned to lambaste their prisoner, before refocusing on Anne Marie once more. "It is important that I find Harlow Morgan and Lucy. I suspect that, from what I've now learned, Morgan tried to kill Major Bruckner at the Crossroads. He failed, and instead infected the man – then attempted to hunt him down at the Major's farm before Bruckner could turn."

"…only Monsieur Morgan failed again. He infected the farm dog, which was turned by ze magic of ze Shadow Witch." Anne Marie nodded, and then added. "Worry not. Ze dog is now dead."

"And all of this makes Mr Morgan a clumsy werewolf – but still a potential ally in this battle that is about to engulf us all," Karl declared.

"Are they still in the town, then?" Anne Marie contemplated. "But ze moon is full tonight…!"

"…and I have not yet seen any evidence that Morgan has gone on a killing spree within Shadowbrook. No – I think he and Lucy are now somewhere out of town. They somehow found another way out…"

"There is an underground tunnel in ze crypt of ze church!" Anne Marie clutched at Karl's arms in realization. "Perhaps there are others?"

His face creased in thought, Karl walked over to the wall with the charts – one hand stroking his beard. Then he pulled down the charts and turned them over, and gave a yell of triumph.

"Yes! Our Mr Morgan found and marked such a secret tunnel. The concealed entrance is just at the back of this workshop, via an alley! Thank you, Anne Marie." He turned to her. "I wish I could help you now – but Miss Lucy's soul is in grave danger, and I need to pick up the trail quickly…"

Anne Marie smiled knowingly as she joined him. "You care greatly for her."

He nodded and patted her arms back. "I do. But I will offer what advice I can, Anne Marie. If you are now recovered enough, leave the reverend here. Find Inspector Cooke, or one of the other dashing heroes you have told me of, and rescue your Mr Danforth. It is a cloudy night outside, but I sense that Bruckner's assault on this town will happen as soon as the clouds part to reveal the full moon. He and his Feral Kin will be invigorated by the astral influence of it. And this vicious Gargoyle and its minions are not to be trusted either! Godspeed – and good luck to you all!"

"And to you also, monsieur!" Anne Marie watched Karl disappear through the front door. Then, feeling steady enough after her injury from Harding, she gave him a final glare of disgust, and left the building also – locking the door to behind her, leaving a few mocking words in her wake, which made the reverend bellow and strain to free himself, without success.

"Do not go away from 'ere now, will you?"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

The Gargoyle emerged out of the eastern end of the tunnel that the Reverend Harding had found it in, those few months ago. The night air of the olde woods came as something of a relief after spending the daytime hours being hidden away in the crypt – and it flexed its bat-like wings, rippling the air around it. Apart from the visits of its human ally, there was little to do in its lair apart from the planning of building up its forces and the eventual takeover of Shadowbrook…

But now, the Shadow Witch had created her army. She was attempting to wreak havoc in _its_ territory. That was intolerable. Shadowbrook would soon belong to the Gargoyle – and the humans who would not obey its will would instead serve as its Living Statue slaves – or they would become its prey…

Arching its back, the Gargoyle repeatedly screeched its cry into the night air. High above, the clouds moving across the full moon began to shift, as if the noise had disturbed them.

Finally falling silent, and lowering its head as it shoved the bed of fallen leaves back to hide the mouth of the tunnel underneath the gnarled, dead tree, the Gargoyle turned – to see gleaming eyes in between the trees on the neighboring ridge. Then the largest shape advanced on his hind legs – flanked by over a dozen of his Feral Kin.

"You are the being that turned Samuel Shaw…into a statue…," Major Bruckner growled, flexing his taloned half-paws. "Leave this township…! Take your minions, and leave Shadowbrook and its environs… The town is ours to claim…"

" _I Had Established MY Claim Before You, Wolf Man! Do Not Test My Patience! None Of You Would Survive In A Fight With Me,"_ the Gargoyle retorted.

Bruckner sneered. "Do not be so certain! We are all immune to your Curse of Stone, my sister assures me... She also has informed me that you are a fugitive – one who has escaped from the control of the Order of the Crimson Hand. You need to run…further away!"

But the Gargoyle hissed and stood its ground in the clearing.

Bruckner snarled and spat his command to his Feral Kin lackeys. "Kill it, my brothers and sisters!"

With a series of blood-curling howls, his pack mates bounded forward from their arc formation and surrounded the Gargoyle, as they lashed out with their claws and fangs.

At first the co-coordinated attack of the Feral Kin served them well. One leapt onto the back of the Gargoyle, preventing it from beating its wings in order to take to the air and make any diving attacks. But then two Grotesques appeared in the sky above the treetops, answering the call of the one who had given them life – and the battle consequently turned into a riot, as one of the Grotesques directly aided the Gargoyle by slaughtering the Feral Kin on its back. After that, the Gargoyle used its wings to hover in the air above the clearing. The downdraft knocked back the Feral Kin, whilst the two Grotesques landed on the ground and charged into the fray. Seeing several of the Feral Kin being flung aside, dying in growing pools of their blood, Bruckner snarled and held out his furred arm, keeping his stooped wolf woman companion from joining the fight. The smallest pair of the Feral Kin were also halted in their faltering advance at a signal from the pack leader…

The fully-fledged wolf man that was Major Lucien Bruckner charged, churning up the fallen leaves in the clearing. Using a collapsed tree trunk as his springboard, Bruckner leapt into the air and collided with the hovering Gargoyle. The two monsters fell back down into the clearing and fought furiously, rolling over each other. Bruckner's outline briefly glowed green, as the determined spirit of his sister sought to channel all of her power through her brother's werewolf body.

In the melee, no one noticed the human emerging from the pile of leaves that was covering the secret tunnel, at the edge of the clearing. He quickly took in the savagery nearby – then quickly retreated into a thicket of bushes, where he hoped that his scent would not be detected…

Finally, the Gargoyle pulled itself away from Major Bruckner, rolling aside. It hissed, feeling its blue blood oozing from the many claw marks it had received. Seeing that both of its Grotesque minions had fallen in the battle, it rose to its feet.

" _You Will All Suffer For This! I Will Heal From My Wounds…And Return With More Of My Creations!"_ Spitting with fury, the Gargoyle then took off – just avoiding the lunge of the stirring Bruckner – and then flew into the darkness of the night, heading somewhere to the north.

The watcher wondered where it was heading in order to heal…

Bruckner and his Feral Kin howled in their victory – but then they appraised the damage around them. A green glow emerged from Bruckner, revealing the floating, wavering, semi-transparent image of Elaine Bartlett.

"No…," growled Bruckner, clenching his furred fists in rage as he examined the lupine bodies amongst the two Grotesques. "Nixon… Torn apart. Several of my recruits from Brooksvane…"

The Shadow Witch curled her lips in disdain for the display of emotional weakness. "You still have about sixteen Feral Kin here, dear brother – including Lexington, Ursula and Jack. And we have a few more – back in Brooksvane, awaiting our call. Furthermore, through you, we can always create more! Now…we have discovered the tunnel that Jack's mind has revealed to me. Are you certain that this leads into the church?" She floated over to the smallest male amongst the stooped Feral Kin.

He bowed his head, and slowly nodded – his tail drooping.

The Shadow Witch gave a satisfied hard smile and focused on her magic just enough to make her hand briefly solid in order to stroke the fur on Jack's head. Then the thin, strange-looking cat that had been the pet of Elaine Bartlett before her mortal death entered the clearing. As ordered, none of the Feral Kin even touched it to slake their hungers.

"Lucien… Are you healing?" The Shadow Witch turned to face the werewolf.

He nodded as he panted on the ground where he had fallen after his failed lunge to prevent the Gargoyle's escape. "Thanks to the power you have given me, dear sister…"

"Good. Then we can proceed. You and a few of our Feral Kin here will stay to act as a distraction to the pathetic humans. I will possess Solomon and lead the others to the church – and attack Shadowbrook from within!"

"Can the magic that is sustaining the barrier of fire be taken down?" Bruckner growled.

"I will try to address that, my brother. I suspect our old friend Sophie is responsible for that nasty trick! She has become powerful in her own right. If she continues to oppose us… Well, I will devise a suitable fate for her. Now, it is time to finally enact our revenge on this town…" And with that, the apparition of Elaine Bartlett changed into a swirling green vapor which disappeared into the open mouth of Solomon the cat.

Hissing, Solomon ran towards the barely-visible mouth of the secret tunnel. At Bruckner's snarl, the Feral Kin stepped forward and pulled out the leaves and the wooden cover to the dark passageway which sloped into the earth. Then, led by the vessel of the Shadow Witch, thirteen of the Feral Kin followed, stooping even more in the tunnel. Meanwhile Bruckner was attended by the wolf woman that was Ursula, who licked at his wounds – helping them to heal. At a growl from him, Ursula, Jack, and the wolf man that was Lexington followed their alpha as he strode out of the clearing and headed north.

Towards the covered bridge? The watcher thought so.

 _What do I do now?_ he mused to himself, wiping the sweat of fear from his face. _It's clear that if I had taken the other way at that junction, I would have emerged at the church! And now that witch and her wild minions are going to attack Shadowbrook._

 _Anne Marie and Victor Danforth… They'll be in danger, if they are both in the church!_

 _But I came here to track down Lucy and Harlow Morgan…_

Sighing, Karl Harrison made up his mind. He carefully emerged from the thicket of bushes, swept the bits of them off his clothes, and walked back to the tunnel entrance.

Karl abruptly halted, his eyes wide with shock. One of the trees at the edge of the clearing was now using its exposed roots to pull itself across the open space to join another gnarled tree that was already guarding the tunnel entrance. Both trees had blazing orange-white eyes and triangular mouths lined with sharp clumps of bark that formed rudimentary teeth…

"No!" Karl hissed. "Blast the Shadow Witch! This has to be more of her work."

He hesitated. The Living Trees became aware of him as one turned to face his direction – but it did not advance. They were just sentries, then. If he could make a fire, and set a branch alight…

But he had no lamp or tinderbox on him now. His lamp had become exhausted shortly before he had emerged from the tunnel.

So how was he going to get back into Shadowbrook? Bruckner and his Feral Kin were probably heading for the covered bridge, which Karl had heard had earlier fallen to them.

 _The marsh, then. Cross the River Shadow at the marsh and find a way into town from the south…_

Checking that all of his remaining equipment was in place, Karl set out westwards for the marsh, with only the bright full moon – now clear of the clouds – to aid his passage through the maze of trees. He hadn't got far in the gloom when he stopped again. Two yellow eyes were peering at him from the cluster of trees.

Ignoring the thumping of his heart, Karl held his military knife at the ready as he took a fighting stance, ready to defend himself.

Then the animal growled and bolted towards him. It raced on all four paws, confirming that it was not one of the Feral Kin. Nor was it Bruckner. Compared to the big muscular wolf man that was the Major, the size and build of this wolf – although rather large by lupine standards - was too small, too slender…

"No! Lucy!" Karl croaked, realizing.

Snarling, the werewolf that was Lucy Hanbrook sprinted onwards to close in on her chosen prey – leading another running, man-sized wolf which now appeared from the shadows. Together, they drew closer to Karl, wide mouths drawn back from sharp fangs that were about to dig deep and draw blood…


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen:**

 **March Of Darkness**

 **Shadowbrook:**

Inside the secret tunnel that led between the olde woods and the church crypt, the Shadow Witch – in the body of Solomon – spied the side tunnel that Karl had used to follow the trail taken by Harlow Morgan and Lucy. Emerging from Solomon to scout out where the side tunnel led, the ethereal shade of Elaine Bartlett returned minutes later to her dutifully-waiting minions. There was a grim smile etched on her proud, attractive face.

"This tunnel emerges into a backyard within the town. Eight of you…," she swept her pointed finger at several of the Feral Kin. "…take this route, and enjoy the thrill of the hunt! If you encounter the town elders, who you will know from your human memories, concentrate your pursuit upon them! Now, go!" the Shadow Witch commanded them. "I will watch over you, in spirit, for a while. As for the other five of you, wait here for my return!"

Bowing their heads in submission to her orders, the chosen eight Feral Kin departed along the side tunnel, along with their mistress, as her floating, fluttering spectral image turned into a wisp of vapor and accompanied them.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The first strike pack of the Feral Kin surfaced in the yard behind Harlow Morgan's rented workshop. Splitting up again, four of them headed north through a narrow alley – whilst the other four bounded out into the nearby street – startling the civilian guard patrol organized by the Scarlet Shadow and Katarina. Amidst the howls, screams, flashes of swiped claws, spilled blood, and swung blades, Katarina's pistol fired – taking down one of the beasts that had charged towards her. In the confusion, she saw one of the creatures flee as it sprinted on all fours towards the Magistrate's office…

With the fight soon over, Katarina briefly assessed the damage around her. Her comrade, Darcius was kneeling before one of the three humans who had fallen. The three remaining Feral Kin were all dead – either shot, or run through by blades or pitchforks.

She grinned. They had defended their established territory from the enemy.

"Darcius?" She hurried over to him. "Are you injured…?"

"No – but this man is dead. My fault…," he choked on a sob.

Katarina saw that it was the butcher of the town. A gunshot had shattered his skull. The Scarlet Shadow's hand shook as he reached out and closed the man's accusing, staring eyes.

"What…happened?" she asked, squeezing her lover's shoulder.

"The Feral Kin I was aiming at… It dodged… My bullet struck the butcher instead! I have committed a grave sin! I have dishonored myself…"

"Darcius! It was an accident," she told him – but the Scarlet Shadow bowed his head in shame. Then suddenly, he gave a sharp yell as something glowed on his neck, before Katarina's wide eyes. They both heard a mocking female laugh on the air. Katarina was quick enough to glimpse the wisp of magical vapor that swiftly floated away along the alley from where the Feral Kin had attacked.

The Scarlet Shadow stopped his lover from keeping chase. "No, Katarina! It was _her_ , wasn't it? That witch! What did she do to me?"

"Um… There's a mark on your neck, Darcius. It is like a burn."

He gingerly touched it – but flinched at the pain. "Strange… It only hurts now if I touch it. But… No… She has branded me with the Devil's Mark!" he moaned. "I killed that innocent man – and her nearby spirit has exploited me over my guilt! Damn her!"

Despite trying to reassure him, the Scarlet Shadow batted Katarina's hand away, as he knelt on the ground next to the dead butcher, feeling tears come to his eyes.

Quickly getting two of the citizens to watch over him – Katarina reloaded her pistols and ran towards the Magistrate's office, anxious about the danger of the town elders being marked for death…

She knew the building all too well from unwanted experience, and soon found it around the corner from the scene of the ambush. Seeing that the door was open, Katarina snarled and sprinted onward towards it. Then, she skidded to a halt as a howl rang out. A blazing shape burst out of the doorway and collapsed upon the walkway outside. It rolled over in an attempt to extinguish the flames, but failed. Instead, the Feral Kin gave a last whine of agony, and then fell still and silent.

An instant later, Magistrate Tiberius Kroft – without his wig - appeared at the doorway, a burning torch in one hand. He was panting, but he regarded his defeated opponent with a nod of satisfaction. Then he saw Katarina close by, lowering her pistol.

"Magistrate Kroft… Are you injured?" Katarina asked him.

"I am unharmed, Miss Clark," the plump man answered. He gathered his breath, and considered his next words. "You were coming to my rescue… Despite the hatred you must feel for me, after my many attempts to bring you and Redfern to justice… I am touched. But worry not. I was prepared for trouble!"

A screech in the air above their heads startled Katarina. She and Kroft looked up, to spy the Grotesques flying in from the north…

"They're back! How many are there…?" Katarina breathed.

"Too many to count right now, Miss Clark!" Kroft's nostrils flared. "Our enemies are playing their hands – and we need to prove our worth against them. Lord Hanbrook will be on the hunt for those Grotesques – and I must prove my inner strength against the march of darkness pressing against us from all around! We must work together, Miss Clark, for the good of us all."

Her lips flickering into a smile despite the situation, Katarina nodded her gratitude. "You'd better come back to the civilian guard with me, then, your honor," she declared. "We'd be glad of your assistance!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The vapor that was the Shadow Witch sped back along the underground side tunnel. Re-entering the body of Solomon via his open mouth, Elaine Bartlett then led the five Feral Kin who had waited for her along the main dark corridor, as they continued on towards the church.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

At the northern edge of Shadowbrook, Inspector Cooke and Ben Summersby worked in co-coordinated fashion as they sprinted from cover to cover, using the doorways of the surrounding houses as their stopping points to shoot their pistols at the Grotesques as they wheeled across the sky, just above the rooftops, eager to make diving attacks upon anyone that presented themselves as an easy target. Just recently, many of the women of the town had instinctively taken flight towards the perceived safety of the church, taking their children with them. Seeing this, Lord Hanbrook had gathered some of the militia and got them to guard the townsfolk as they ran along the edges of the Town Hall square. The mothers and aunts kept close to the buildings, whilst trying to prevent their crying youngsters from running off at the sight and sound of the screeching Grotesques. Cooke glimpsed Isabella von Took and her handmaiden, Heidi, urging them to keep an orderly line next to the cover of the buildings.

At his lordship's orders, the militia had been busy in another way. They had just set a gathered haystack ablaze – with buckets of water at the ready, to be used to prevent the fire from spreading to the wooden buildings on either side of the street in question. Cooke could now see that the fire, and the smoke, was holding back the present pair of Grotesques from the Town Hall square - and from the rush of women and children.

"A cunning move. Good…," Cooke muttered to Summersby, nodding towards Lord Hanbrook and the militia.

"His lordship is a huntsman, sir," Ben called back, smiling. "He's just using smoke in a diff'rent way here – instead of smoking his prey out."

"There's one on the roof there, sir!" one of the militia shouted to Lord Hanbrook, as he pointed to a nearby shop roof.

Cooke spun round, still aware of the possibility of coming under attack from any angle if he didn't keep his wits about him. He spied the Grotesque in question. It was ripping up tiles from the building, ready to throw them at the humans below.

"Shoot your fire arrows!" Lord Hanbrook yelled at the soldiers.

Two of the militia promptly dipped the arrows of their longbows into the burning haystack and took aim before firing. One of the blazing arrows struck the Grotesque in the chest. It screamed, lost balance and tumbled forwards down the roof – to crash onto the street below. It tried to roll and put out the flames now consuming it, but it was soon finished off by another flaming arrow – this time fired from the crossbow held by Lord Hanbrook himself.

"Inspector! Sir – behind you!" Ben hollered in panic.

Cooke turned round, and froze in shock. With eyes blazing like white stars, three statues were climbing out of the trench that lay close to the barrier that cut off the road to the windmill. Two of them looked like farm workers – one man and one milkmaid. The other… Oh, lord – thought Cooke. The third statue was of a smallish man, dressed in a military-style tunic and pants – and had the impression of a scar running across his left eye…

The Living Statues sighted the Inspector and Ben – then turned slightly and steadily advanced towards them, their bodies making the noises of smoothly grinding rocks. Mouths parted into leering grins. The arms were raised. The hands opened, ready to clamp onto the necks and throats of their chosen victims. To throttle the lives out of Cooke and Ben.

The first pair reached a man-made barrier of emptied barrels taken from the tavern, and used their strength to smash down the casings.

"Take them down!" Cooke urged his ally. As Ben opened fire with his rifle, the Inspector's pistol spat also. Unfortunately, the silver shot Isabella and Anne Marie had shared between the three of them was no better at stopping the Living Statues than ordinary bullets – and Cooke, realizing that that ammunition was best reserved for the Feral Kin and the werewolf leading them, quickly changed to a second pistol upon his person. As he did so, the closest of the statues – that of the farm worker - finally lost its head from the well-placed shot to its neck from Ben.

"They're too resilient to our bullets, sir," Ben panted, as his rifle 'clicked' on an empty cartridge. He crouched down and fished around for more ammunition.

"I know, dammit!" Cooke shouted in response as they reached the cover of the overturned cart close by. From there, the Inspector raised his second pistol at the advancing statue of the milkmaid and fired. The statue twisted as he did so, avoiding major damage – but instead took a bullet as it climbed the remains of a broken barrel. It lost the forearm it had rested its weight upon, and lost its balance. As the stone milkmaid slowly rose upon its remaining arm, Cooke drew in closer with his weapon and fired at its neck. The 'boom' saw cracks widening from the hit. The statue gave a silent scream of rage. Then its expression froze, the gleam in its eyes died away – and it slipped sideways. It crumbled into pieces upon the street cobbles as it crashed down.

Cooke panted and gazed around. His eyes met Ben's – then…

"I'm out o' bullets, sir! Err… Where's the last one got to…?" the younger man asked.

"Watch o-!" But Cooke was too late. A stony arm shot through the space around the axle of the upturned cart. It snaked around Ben's neck and pulled him backwards, making him drop his spent rifle.

"Urrhh!" the young man cried out as he tried to ram his elbows into his ambusher.

"Hold on!" Cooke yelled. He grabbed the rifle and leapt to the side of the smirking statue. "Thomas Harrow! Is that still you? Stop this madness!"

The Thomas-statue turned to face Cooke with its scared eye, but did not relent in its attack upon Ben. Its other hand was about to grab hold of the militia soldier's face – possibly to twist his head as it held firmly onto his throat.

A voice sounded in Cooke's head, making him shudder with horror at the implications…

 _Quit lookin' at my damn eye!_

Cooke screamed and bashed the head of the Thomas-statue with the butt of the rifle. It eventually fell down, letting go of Ben – but now the rifle was twisted and useless. Then, as the Thomas-statue began to crawl over to the slumped, wheezing Ben, Cooke desperately searched for another weapon.

He spotted one at hand.

Quickly snatching the head of the decapitated farm worker statue with both hands, Cooke gave a battle-roar and bashed the stone head onto the 'hairline' of the Thomas-statue as it tried to seize Ben again. The grayed face of the courier turned round after the first bashing, and stared at Cooke with horror.

"Let…" _Bash_. "…go…" _Bash_. "…of him!" _BASH!_

Eventually, Cooke slumped onto his knees. The cracked head of the farm worker statue slipped from his fingers and hit the ground, joining that of the shattered head fragments of what had once been Thomas Harrow. Footsteps rushed up to gather around Cooke.

"Easy now, Inspector," Lord Hanbrook urged him. "My men will watch over you."

"B-Ben?" he gasped.

"He'll recover. You've saved his life. Good work, sir…!"

He was interrupted by a chorus of screams – the screams of women and children. Cooke whipped his head around, to see four of the Feral Kin bounding out of a nearby alleyway. Immediately, Isabella was issuing orders to her handmaiden – and the two women began firing at the predators, making them back off. Then the noblewoman began chasing after them. Her hunting rifle barked – and one of the creatures collapsed.

Lord Hanbrook took two of his men and ran over to Isabella. "Madam von Took! Let me and my men deal with those fie-"

"No, your lordship. I think not! Heidi and I have the situation under control – and I would hate misfortune to strike the husband of my dear friend!" she retorted. "Escort the women and children into the church for us!" And without waiting for his agreement, Isabella led the compliant Heidi after the retreating Feral Kin.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lord Hanbrook instead turned his attention to containing and calming the ladies and their sons and daughters…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Church:**

The secret door in the crypt was broken down with ease by the Feral Kin when they charged at it. As the five werewolf-type creatures bounded into the crypt, Victor jumped and huddled behind the nearest tomb. The startled Living Statue that had been - or was still - Ross turned its attention away from the prisoner and bared its stone teeth at the intruders instead. Attacked by the Feral Kin, the statue punched one of them – and he staggered back, winded. Immediately, two more of the Feral Kin raced forward to claw at the Ross-statue from different angles.

The last pair of the Feral Kin was apparently guarding a thin cat. A cat that was now turning his attention towards Victor. He hissed – and the Feral Kin strode forward to seize the playwright.

 _Oh no…! Mother of mercy…_

Victor scrambled onto his knees in the dim light of the crypt. Aided by the rush of adrenaline, he snatched up his ax that he had been looking for – and swiped the air with the blade, making the approaching Feral Kin hesitate. Seeing the Living Statue now being knocked over by the two beast-people tackling it, Victor turned and raced out of the crypt. He took the steps two at a time, still holding the ax in one hand – and it was only when he emerged into the private chapel that he considered himself fortunate not to have fallen down in his climb…

He slammed the secret door to behind him, and barged out of the chapel and into the church nave. Immediately, there were screams as the women and children present were startled by the sudden appearance of a large, sweat-drenched man with a terrified expression and an ax in his clenched hands.

" _Bother!"_ he panted. "What's going on? Why are you all here!?" he yelled.

Lord Hanbrook hurried over to the front of the swarming mass of panicking women and children. He waved a hand at the crowd behind her – whilst his two escort soldiers helped to contain them.

"Be calm!" he yelled out. "It is only Mr Danforth… He will not harm you!" Lord Hanbrook frowned at him. "It is not good form to wield a weapon in church, sir!"

"Do you think I am doing this for _amusement_ , your lordship!?" he bellowed in exasperation. "We need to get out of this church, before…"

"But we came here for sanctuary!" one of the women retorted. "God and the good Reverend Harding will provide for our safety…"

"No! Ze Reverend Harding is in league with one of this town's enemies!" Anne Marie declared at the top of her voice as she sprinted through the front door. Ignoring the loud protestations to her accusation, the schoolteacher skidded to a halt against one of the pews upon seeing Victor. She sighed with relief. "Victor! You are well…? You fought your way past ze Living Statue of Ross!?"

"No! The Feral Kin have broken into the crypt from that underground passage and overcome the statue!" Victor gibbered. "I've shut that secret door to behind me, but…"

He was interrupted by a loud 'bang'. It was followed seconds later, by another. Victor, Lord Hanbrook, and some of the women hurried into the chapel – to see the secret door cracking open. Through the gaps, movement could be seen. A Feral Kin sniffed the air and growled in anticipation of the feast to come…

Then two more people ran over to them. Victor glanced round, to see the still-masked Scarlet Shadow and the blonde-haired midwife of Shadowbrook, Sophie O'Hare. She looked drained – but her expression sharpened upon realizing the danger before them.

"Everyone – get back! Take cover!" she yelled.

The secret door suddenly exploded outwards in a swirl of debris and dust. The leading Feral Kin raced out, heading straight for Sophie as it snarled a promise of death…

"No – you fiend! I think not!" With a dash of bravery that surprised him, Victor stepped forward and raised his ax into the air upon impulse, swinging it back. Then he threw it forward with his might towards the suddenly-frozen beast as it saw the danger.

Providence was with Victor. The blade dug deep into the male Feral Kin. The wolf man howled as it was struck and thrown back into the altar table, which promptly broke and collapsed. The lit candles fell down and a small fire began to burn in the spilled pool of wax, next to the dying fiend. But the remaining pair of Feral Kin was trying to emerge into the chapel. Smelling the flames, they howled and hesitated.

"Stand aside! I need a clear shot…!" the Scarlet Shadow protested as he tried to push through the yelling women and children

Another woman screamed. But it was a scream of rage – and it seemed to come from the very air in the private chapel.

" _No one is safe! I will take you all! You too, Sophie O'Hare! I will use my magic to possess my female disciple here, and force her onwards…"_

"Heavens preserve us! I know that voice. 'Tis her – the Shadow Witch!" one of the mothers cried out, aghast. She grabbed her two little children, and ran straight for the front door. Several others of the townswomen followed her with their youngsters. Then the leader halted at the church door and gasped. "Those flying devils are in the air, outside!" she screamed.

"Where do we go!?" another mother sobbed fearfully. The children were now crying too.

Sophie wished that she could help them right then. But she was halted in her tracks by the sight of the green, glowing vision of a floating, hooded lady - which became visible as it drifted out of the secret doorway. Then it disappeared into the furred form of the female Feral Kin. The creature growled in pain, as her body twisted – and then straightened upright. Victor, Anne Marie, the Scarlet Shadow, and Sophie watched in amazement as the Feral Kin's form developed a sleeker, more powerful frame. The open jaws drooled with saliva as the fangs turned sharper. The poise and posture of the possessed Feral Kin was now more confident…

"No…!" Lord Hanbrook gulped with fear. His double chin quivered. "She'll kill us all…"

"Elaine…! She's too powerful!" Sophie whispered, just loud enough for the heroes around her to hear. "She's turning her minion into a fully-fledged werewolf!"

"Somebody – get the women and children to safety!" the Scarlet Shadow hollered. With the way now clear, thanks to the fleeing of the townswomen, he leveled his two pistols at the new werewolf, who promptly clenched her fists, roared into the air, and then bounded into the air as she leapt at the outlaw leader. Meanwhile, Lord Hanbrook and Sophie urged as many of the crowd as possible to run towards the church altar.

Disregarding the fact that she was in church, Anne Marie fired her gun – directly hitting a Feral Kin in the chest. It screamed as it collapsed and fell down dead. The remaining pair of Feral Kin ducked back into the secret passageway, avoiding the next shot from Anne Marie's quickly reloaded pistol. But she hesitated in helping the Scarlet Shadow – he and the female werewolf were now fighting at close-quarters, his pistols now evidently spent, Darcius Redfern had drawn a dagger from his robes and was using it to keep the werewolf at bay, as the pair made their dance of death around the collapsed altar table and pews, with the wax on the floor still smoldering…

Both of the fighters now had slash marks in several places.

Moments later, the werewolf dived upon the Scarlet Shadow, slamming him into a pew and biting him on the shoulder. Then the female lupine howled in agony as Redfern's blade pierced her heart – and she shuddered, before falling still, still pinning her opponent beneath her. A green glow rose from the werewolf…

Then Anne Marie was distracted by the two remaining Feral Kin poking their heads from the doorway leading to the crypt.

She raised her pistol and aimed again. Her hasty shot was too low, and only struck one of the beasts in the knee, making it collapse. But then the gun 'clicked' on an empty cartridge.

"Mon dieu…!" she whispered in horror. One of the Feral Kin stepped out from the doorway and raced past her – sighting other game. The injured one however, grinned at her, licking its fangs as it rose up and slowly limped towards her. In the background, the women and children were making too much noise for her to think clearly.

"Lord Hanbrook?" Anne Marie looked round – but his lordship had retreated to the altar with his two soldiers, along with the women and children. Hanbrook had gathered his wits, and was snapping orders to his guards. The three men were coordinating themselves, taking it in turns to fire and reload their guns. Then one of the stained-glass windows shattered, and one of the Grotesques landed on the nearby floor, shaking its wings free of glass shards. It was welcomed by the screaming of the women and children it had just trapped in the east end of the church…

As for Victor – she was just in time to see him fleeing up the stairs of the bell tower. Sophie was on his heels, as the other Feral Kin chased after her...

The Scarlet Shadow remained motionless underneath his slain opponent, evidently out for the count, amidst the wreckage of the chapel pews. The green glow had disappeared.

Holding her now-empty pistol with a shaking hand, a dumbstruck Anne Marie slowly backed away into the main church as the Feral Kin forced itself onwards towards her – holding her attention as her heart pounded furiously with terror.

In the background, Lord Hanbrook's pistol spat fire at the Grotesque in the nave, somewhere to Anne Marie's left…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Victor huffed, puffed, and gasped as he finally reached the top of the stone staircase, finding himself in the bell tower. As he leaned against the wooden support rail that ran around the bells and the shaft below, to recover his breath, two things occurred to him.

One, that his fear and adrenalin had made him race blindly up the stairs at a faster rate than he had thought possible for one of his bulk. Two, that someone was hurrying up the stone steps even quicker than him.

He turned to fearfully face his pursuer – all too aware that he was now unarmed. But instead he saw the flushed face of the attractive, blonde-haired midwife, Sophie.

"Why…," she huffed. "…did you race up here?"

"My nerves…failed me! I came here…to get away from those beasts!" Victor answered her.

"That's…unfortunate." Sophie pulled herself up upon the stone landing that surrounded the church bells. "Hopefully, I've lured one of the Feral Kin after me."

" _What!?"_

"Do not panic, Mr Danforth. I have a pl- _Get back!"_

She pushed Victor away from the nearest open gap of the bell tower. An instant later, a Grotesque crashed into the southern side of the structure, making the tower quake and shake. The winged terror _screeched_ and started tearing at the stonework with a taloned hand, breaking out chunks below the archway and making the gap larger in the process. In a few more moments, it would be able to pull itself through and step into the bell tower to attack the two humans…

Ducking down, Sophie quickly grabbed two of the stones which had rolled towards them. Then she passed one to the startled Victor.

"Perfect! Time to work together, Mr Danforth!" she cried out.

"P-p-perfect!?" Victor stuttered.

The midwife grinned. Hearing the bulky Feral Kin now reach the final turn of the staircase below them, she turned and threw her large chunk of masonry at the wolf man's head. The missile neatly hit the creature's face and caused him to lose his balance. With a yowl, the Feral Kin tumbled down the winding stairs.

"Good shot, Miss!" Victor exclaimed.

"Thank you. Now, let's deal with the Grotesque together!" Sophie beamed.

And so they got to work, with Victor throwing first, before diving to the stone floor to retrieve another chunk of broken stone. Acting as a team, they prevented the winged fiend from squeezing through its created breach in the church tower archway. Eventually, Victor and Sophie sent the Grotesque retreating into the night air and it flew off, flapping its bat-like wings as it screeched its frustration and fury.

"Th-thank you, Miss O'Hare," Victor wheezed as he took out his stained handkerchief and wiped at his moist face. "I could not have coped without your help."

"Thank you for saving my life downstairs." Sophie smiled as she helped him to his feet. "Actually… You have an interesting aura, Mr Danforth. It is full of creative potential. Essentially, I believe that you make events happen by just being present. It will just take a little concentration from you, to harness that ability and control it to some degree."

Victor frowned at her. "I don't understand… My aura? You are versed in matters arca-?"

He was interrupted by the howling of the Feral Kin that Sophie had attacked earlier.

"No! The fiend has survived! What do we d-?"

"Get back! And hold your nerves steady." Sophie forced Victor to move with her as she pushed him into the next corner of the walkway that ran around the bells. Then the midwife spun round and Victor saw her pulling out an amulet from a pocket of her green dress. The amulet glowed as she muttered some words in a language that Victor, despite his learnings, had not heard before…

The Feral Kin reached the top of the staircase and growled menacingly at its chosen prey. A long, wet tongue licked the exposed fangs with anticipation at the meal to come. It loped onwards to where the broken archway was and turned the corner to face Victor and Sophie.

With a yell, Sophie opened up her other hand and directed her palm at the Feral Kin.

Before Victor's shocked gaze, a barely-visible 'pulse' of air shot out from the amulet in the midwife's palm and slammed into the wolf man in mid-step. With a look of first bewilderment – then horror – the Feral Kin was violently pushed back by the release of magik, right into the shattered archway, where it slipped through the jagged gap.

The minion of the Werewolf howled its despair. Seconds later, there was a loud 'thud' outside.

Victor and Sophie hurried over to the archway together and peered down at the pathway running alongside the church. Lit only from the hanging lantern affixed to the corner of the church tower, the sprawled body of the now-deceased Feral Kin was becoming surrounded by a slowly-growing pool of blood…

Victor turned to take in Sophie's grinning face with wonder.

"Can you keep a secret, Mr Danforth?" she asked him.

"You are a witch…," he muttered.

"Correct. And with my magik, I enhanced the barrier of alcohol-fuelled flames that you helped to set up around the town. But the process of maintaining the cordon is wearing – I needed to recharge my energies, and so I left my station, only to find myself helping out here…"

"Then the cordon is down!?"

"Fear not. My apprentice came in response to my mental summons to her – and even now, she is continuing the magical defense of Shadowbrook… No. I will not name who she is…" Sophie frowned and turned to look down the shaft where the ropes to the church bells hung.

Victor followed her gaze and spied a young boy huddled on the church floor. The child's sobs reached him from below.

"Quick. Help me up!" Sophie drew out a sharp knife from a pocket sewn into her dress and, with assistance from the puzzled Victor, climbed onto the low wall surrounding the church bells. With her companion holding her steady and preventing her fall into the shaft, Sophie began cutting the rope holding the largest bell in place. Now Victor really looked bewildered.

"What are you doing!?" he breathed. "You will kill that boy!"

"I'm trying to save him! I just had a premonition of what is about to happen. Please help me, Mr Danforth! This bell needs to fall. Wait… Perhaps…, if you could climb onto the bell…"

" _What!?"_

"In the name of God, please do it!" And with that Sophie tugged on his arm, urging him up.

Seeing the frayed rope, Victor swallowed hard. But he saw the desperation in the midwife's eyes. So, taking a deep breath, he helped Sophie back down before climbing onto the short wall surrounding the bells. He looked down the shaft again and gasped out, seeing Anne Marie rushing over to pick up the crying lad. Her hairpins had gone and now her straight dark-brown locks were hanging over her shoulders. She looked scared. In the next moment, the reason why became evident, as a Feral Kin, gore dripping from its blood-soaked muzzle, slowly stepped towards its trapped prey, relishing the scent of fear they were emitting.

His heart fluttering, Victor shouted down to her. "Anne Marie – move aside!"

The schoolmistress shot her face up at him and her eyes widened. Her surprise turned into shock when Victor leapt onto the bell, locking his legs around it.

The frayed rope sagged from the added weight. Then it snapped.

Victor screamed as he plummeted, holding tightly onto both sides of the man-sized bell with his arms. The shaft of the bell tower sped past his head, and his hair and short beard were ruffled as he prayed that the bell would remain upright…

He was in luck. There was not enough room in the tower shaft for the bell to overturn underneath his weight until just before reaching the floor of the church. Moments later, the side of the bell slammed into the Feral Kin that had just looked up at the brass missile descending upon it. Victor managed to roll off the topside of the landed bell, temporarily deafened by the loud, ringing impact – and he collided into the side of the nearest pew, which arrested his motion. Moments later, when the bell had finally fallen silent and the world had stopped spinning round, Victor found himself watching the crying boy being hugged by Anne Marie. Then he spied the nearby sprawled body of one of the townswomen. Another, younger lady was rising from the body – tears and anguish on her face. But her expression brightened a little upon seeing that the boy was safe.

"Mommy!" the child wailed.

"Oh, William… It is too late! Your mother's soul is now with God and the angels… Come here to your aunt!" The young woman took him from Anne Marie, and fixed both her and Victor with a faint smile. "Thank you… Both of you."

"We are sorry for your loss," Anne Marie responded solemnly. Then she turned, hurried over to Victor and hugged him. "Bien joué!"

"Aagghh! Ouch! My bruises." Victor winced. He hesitated before speaking again. "Are… Are we safe now?"

"Oui! Lord Hanbrook and his men have shot dead ze Grotesque that frightened that boy and sent him running. His mother chased after him, and…well. You have seen ze result. But…mon dieu! Your daring and timing were incredible, Victor! When you ran upstairs, I thought you were a coward…"

"Um… I still am, Anne Marie," he confessed, groaning as he tried to move.

With Anne Marie's assistance, he was able to see that the Feral Kin that had threatened the schoolmistress and William had been crushed underneath the now-cracked bell. Further along the nave of the church, Victor could see Lord Hanbrook and his two soldiers trying to calm everyone down and assess who needed assisting first, now that the immediate crises had abated.

"Miss O'Hare encouraged me to take the plunge," Victor said to Anne Marie. "I guess she thought it was time for me…to, um, throw my weight around - you might say." He smiled.

Anne Marie laughed in relief and joy. She bent down and kissed her rescuer on the lips, startling him. But then he relaxed and returned her embrace – kissing her back with as much passion.

Moments later, Katarina and Magistrate Kroft barged into the church. Seeing her lover unconscious, the female outlaw gave a wailing cry of "Darcius!". She rushed over to help pull the Scarlet Shadow from the corpse of the female werewolf slumped on top of him…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Blacksmiths:**

Isabella von Took was now starting to regret her impulsiveness in going after the remaining three Feral Kin.

She and the loyal Heidi had managed to use their guns to back the creatures into a dead-end alley – just as their weapons had spent their last bullets, hitting and killing another of the furred minions. Now the last pair of Feral Kin, realizing that their hunters had stopped to reload, turned upon the women – snarling their desire for revenge and the fresh opportunity to feast…

Isabella gave up on her attempt to reload the hunting rifle. Instead, she threw it at the nearest of the lupine brutes, making it stop its charge towards her, as it ducked. With that avoidance from injury, Isabella grabbed Heidi's hand as she turned and ran out of the alley – her eyes wide with fear as they darted around to search for a place of safety…

"Quick! Up here, Heidi!" Isabella ordered her handmaiden, as she ran over to the barrels that were stacked alongside the side wall of the blacksmith's house.

"Milady…, I have managed to load our last bullet in vis pistol!" Heidi declared as she handed the weapon over to her mistress.

"One bullet only? That is not enough! Now – follow me up. _Haast!_ Hurry!" Isabella barked as she pocketed the gun, all too aware that she had lost her dignified composure in the fighting. The remaining Feral Kin were howling as they raced towards the two women, determined to sink their fangs into warm, fear-scented meat…

Using her long limbs, Isabella managed to climb onto the sloped roof of the blacksmith's. Then the shorter, and stouter, Heidi clambered onto the barrels and tried to pull herself up by…

"Heidi! You are pulling on my dress!" Isabella screamed as she slipped and dug her left hand into a broken roof tile to stop her descent. Her beloved black dress was beginning to tear at the hem, as her servant's weight yanked at it.

"Mistress – please help me up! I-y _aagghh!"_ Heidi screamed.

Twisting herself round on the side of the angled roof, Isabella swore at the sight below her. Heidi was hanging onto her dress, whilst dangling below. The barrels had been kicked aside by the handmaiden's legs – and now a Feral Kin had leapt upon her, wrapping its furred arms around Heidi's knees.

Isabella realized that in a matter of moments both her and Heidi would be yanked down onto the street by the chain of bodies pulling on each other. Terror seized her. She spied the second Feral Kin, illuminated by the nearby street lantern, licking its fangs in anticipation…

 _Choices to be made…_ , the thought flashed through the noblewoman's mind, as she panicked.

 _Moge God vergeef me..._

She quickly made her decision. When she spoke, Isabella's voice came out as detached.

"Thank you…for your services, Heidi… I relieve you…of your duty."

"Mistress!?"

"I'm…I am sorry." And with that said, Isabella's right hand pulled out the pistol Heidi had just passed over to her. She would make the last bullet count…

"Nein! Frau - _hilf mir!"_ The eyes in Heidi's round face pleaded with her, as she screamed out her desperation, in her native tongue.

Isabella shut her own eyes tight, and fired.

Heidi jerked from the impact as the bullet struck her forehead. Her grip on her mistress's dress slackened – and she dropped to the ground, taking the Feral Kin holding onto her down too.

Isabella twisted back and pressed her face to the roof tiles as she held on for her precious life, sobbing as she heard the two monsters tearing into the young fresh body of Heidi…


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen:**

 **Full Moon**

 **The Olde Woods:**

Karl forced himself to snap out of his statue of paralysis, and he instinctively pulled out his last remaining weapon – his knife.

But the charging she-wolf hesitated only briefly at the sight of Karl holding the knife before him as he pressed his back against a tree. Then she pushed herself on, bearing down on the human – driven on by her bestial hunger, under the light of the full moon.

The second, larger wolf did not slow down at all – and now it was drawing level with his kindred companion…

Then it swiftly turned and rammed its body into that of the she-wolf. The lupines tumbled into a shallow hollow – and a succession of yelps, snarls, and furious fighting followed. Dumbstruck by his change of fortune, Karl then reminded himself to breathe steadily. The sweat ran down his face, as he remained on edge and ready to fight for his life – even when his unexpected rescuer sank his jaws into the nape of the she-wolf's neck and got her to submit as he held her down with his forepaws. Then, releasing her, the dog-wolf licked his fangs clean and looked up meaningfully at Karl. Briefly closing his eyes in concentration, the form of the dog-wolf then charged. Along with the connecting muscles and ligaments, bones 'crunched' as they twisted, and lengthened in some places - whilst shortening in others. The lupine face and skull turned human-like - and, moments later, a brown-furred wolf man lay before the watchful Karl. Guttural, barking sounds came out of the half-formed muzzle. With some repeated effort, the wolf man was able to speak in the human tongue.

"Apol…ogies, Mr Har-rison. Lucy caught…your scent…before I did."

Karl lowered his knife just slightly. "Thank you, Harlow Morgan," he replied carefully.

"You…worked out…my secret…"

"I have hunted werewolves before. I know of their advanced recuperative abilities. The condition in your bloodstream works hard to maintain the bodies of its hosts. Almost…"

"As if it…is a…living thing, itself… It is," Harlow confirmed.

Karl's eyes shifted to the silent, but alert she-werewolf. "Will Lucy regain her humanity at sunrise?"

"She will… The first…change for…our kind…is the…most painful… It leaves…us wild, ravenous… But after…repeated moon cycles…I have…built up some control…as you…can see…and hear. It is…not easy." Harlow's face and ears drooped. "I am sorry…for inflicting…my curse…upon Lucy."

"The blood transfusion. As you told Lord Hanbrook and myself, it was the only way that you could save Lucy's life from the Gargoyle's stone touch. You gave her one curse to free her from another," Karl breathed. "But I…I forgive you. You appear to be…a _responsible_ …parent…for a werewolf."

"Thank you… I lost…my own family… So I…seek redemption," Harlow huffed. "Maybe I can…find it…through Miss Lucy."

"Tell me. Quickly."

"My wife…and I…were attacked…by a werewolf…in France…five years ago. She was…torn apart. I survived…but was cursed. My daughter, Harriett..., looked after me. Locked me…in basements…during full moons. I forced myself…to develop self-control. Then we…hunted down…the monster…who slaughtered…my wife. I made…him pay. Later, Harriett…and I sailed…to this country. She drugged me… full moon night…during the voyage. I sought a cure…, whilst Harriett studied…the arcane, for help. Then, one…full moon…she drew up…a magical barrier…to pen me…in our cave…in the mountains. Barrier failed… I broke out…" Harlow's form shook with self-loathing. "I chased my daughter… In the dark outside…she fell…off a cliff edge…and died. My fault… I howled for her…, in my despair. But I overcame…my desire…to kill myself. Now I still…search for a cure…"

"Your experiments? In your workshop…," Karl speculated.

"Yes… As well as…working on…my inventions. But even…taking wolfsbane…has not worked. The condition…is too rooted…within me."

Karl gave a grim nod. "You helped to cause part of the nightmare that Shadowbrook is now suffering from," he pointed out. "You infected Major Bruckner."

A pained expression came over the face of the wolf man, and he huffed. "I know… Not my intention. Was trying…to save…that woman…from Bruckner…and his thugs! I tried to kill…him at his farm…before he could turn – but the dog…stopped me. Later learned…dog infected…, now dead." Harlow hung his half-lupine head. "Now want to ensure…Miss Lucy…harms no one. Hate myself…for the mess…I've caused."

"I see…" Karl turned his attention back to the silent she-werewolf who Harlow was still pinning down. "Lucy… Do you recognize me now?" he breathed.

Lucy raised her head and growled at him, exposing her fangs.

"Feed her…," Harlow rasped.

"Feed her…?" Realizing that Harlow was making a suggestion to him, Karl began to smile. "Yes – of course!" he exclaimed. Dropping his knife and knapsack, the ex-soldier pulled some dry portions of meat and carefully placed them before Lucy, who sniffed at them.

Harlow slowly eased his weight off from his protégé – his body tense, ready to throw himself at Lucy if she bolted and attacked Karl, Lucy glanced at her werewolf sire, whined, and - upon receiving a gesture of approval – trotted forward towards Karl, only to stop halfway. She breathed in his scent, as well as that of the food. Then she ploughed her muzzle into the dry meat, using her forepaws to aid her as she tore and wolfed down the meat. Soon Lucy had finished and she stood still on all fours before Karl in the dim light, licking her sharp fangs – no longer a victim of the Gargoyle, but now a supernatural predator of the night herself, taking her place alongside her maker.

"Safe now…for _you,_ " Harlow growled. "Your existing bond…helping Lucy to remember. Go…to her."

Taking a deep breath, Karl lowered the knife that he had picked up again, and slowly walked over to the she-wolf, keeping eye contact. Kneeling down, he took a leap of faith and stroked the back of her head, finding Lucy's cranial fur to be pleasant, like a dog's. Her dark lips pulled back into a canine smile, and she lolled out her tongue – then Lucy shifted suddenly and rubbed her dark, cold nose against Karl's beard. He gasped, but then put away his knife and laughed. Moments later, he was embracing her, feeling tears flowing from his eyes.

"I had feared that I had lost you, Lucy…," he managed to say. "I'm so glad that you are alive! I'm glad that you are still…you!"

Lucy responded by licking away his tears. Inside her mind, her half-buried humanity was trying to merge with her newborn lupine persona. She was inhaling Karl's scent, committing it to memory – encouraging her wolf to accept the two-legs as a friend of their small pack, instead of as prey. This man had helped to save her life. He was _not_ to be harmed…

Watching the pair bond, Harlow gave a relieved sigh. Now, given the changing situation, they had to decide what their next move would be. Bruckner and his Feral Kin would not be far away…

The movement of air alerted him to the gliding assailant before any of them saw – or heard – its approach. Harlow snarled a warning – but Karl and Lucy had barely turned before the legs of the Grotesque clamped themselves around Karl's torso and held him tightly in place, as he was torn away from the howling Lucy. Within moments, the monster hunter found himself being carried up into the air above the clearing where he had been with Lucy and Harlow.

"No! Lucy!" Karl cried out, unable to reach the knife tucked into his belt – thanks to the minion's leg being in the way. Then he gritted his teeth, feeling the crushing grip of his captor squeezing him.

Lucy and Harlow wailed out their shock and dismay, but in response the Grotesque gave a _'screech'_ of triumph that rang out louder than their cries. Then, beating its wings, the fiend banked in the night air in the light of the half-hidden moon and turned to head northwards…

Karl looked out upon the countryside before him, lit here and there by lanterns that occasionally dotted the blackness. As the Grotesque drew closer to its destination, a building loomed out of the gloom, and Karl's heart sank as he realized where they were heading…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Town Hall:**

Despite the recovery of Doctor Manning from his werewolf infliction, he and his understudy – Cochrane – had their hands full, and the Doctor's Surgery was packed out. However, there was a stroke of luck. Another doctor – who had stopped in Shadowbrook just before the siege had fallen – was now using the Town Hall to help treat the injured from the church, including the Scarlet Shadow, to Katarina's relief. And Sophie found her nursing skills being called upon also. Unknown to most people, this was preventing her from getting back to the attic of the Town Hall, in order to relieve her apprentice – whose magical energy was still maintaining the barrier of flames around the town.

However to her relief, she spied Inspector Jonathan Cooke being helped by Ben into the Town Hall's main room. As soon as she was able to, she hurried over to him and checked him over, examining his head and eyes in particular.

"Just exhaustion in your case, Inspector. You need to lie down, and take some food and water when you feel up to it," she announced.

"I'll check on him as I go round about my other duties, Miss," Ben declared. "I'll go out now and see what I can do."

Sophie nodded gratefully at him. "Check that the flames around the town are still burning, Mr Summersby!"

"Sure thing, Miss." Ben nodded and headed off.

Dabbing Cooke's forehead with a damp flannel, Sophie bent closer to him.

"Inspector… I need you to listen to me…"

Cooke focused his faltering concentration on her and smiled, taking in her attractive face and blonde locks. "You have my attention, Nurse O'Hare…"

She blushed.

"There's no time for that! Not right _now_ , anyway… Listen - when I was in the church tower, after Mr Danforth sent the bell down… I looked out to see if there was any more trouble on the horizon… And I saw something that disturbed me."

Cooke frowned. "Another monster?"

Sophie bit her lip. "Not exactly…"

And then she told him of what she had witnessed.

Cooke's mind sharpened, as his law-enforcement mode of thought kicked into gear again. "I see…," he eventually replied, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated on the problem presented to him. Then his attention was diverted by the arrival of the stranded doctor.

"Well, well, if it isn't my old friend Jonathan Cooke." The apron-wearing, bespectacled man gave a smile that lit up his previously grim-looking face. He put down his medical case, turned his boyish features towards Sophie and smiled again. "I see that you are already being tended to. I'd better move onto more pressing patients."

Cooke nodded back, grinning. "Hopefully we can speak later, Cornelius."

"Doctor Edwards," Sophie dipped her head respectfully before joining the medic from Tidewater, in order to assess the other patients now awaiting their joint attention…

"Hold still! This will only take a moment," Cooke soon heard his old friend saying – not for the first time…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Church:**

Outside, in the partly-cloudy night skies above Shadowbrook, the Grotesques were no longer present. Victor had retrieved his ax, and now he and Anne Marie remembered to check on the number of grotesques around the church roof – only to see that they had all disappeared. Each one of them having been animated by the dark magic of the Gargoyle itself. Then, joined by the recovered Inspector Cooke and Sergeant Allardyce, the men engaged in conversation with the playwright and schoolteacher, having followed their joint gazes upwards.

"They all came to life during the siege," Cooke declared wearily, wondering what other bizarre sights he would yet see before the crisis – or crises – finally ended. If he would survive, that was, he mused ruefully. "Why, I do not know…"

"We do!" Anne Marie and Victor spoke simultaneously. Then, with a smile, Victor gestured for Anne Marie to tell their story to the law enforcement officers from Boston. And so she did – with Victor filling in the gaps.

By the time they had told of what they had experienced so far that night, Cooke's serious expression had turned paler. "Reverend Harding…has been harboring this…Gargoyle? And you believe that either Lord or Lady Hanbrook…was responsible for the death of Harding's father?"

"Oui! And ze reverend should still be in Monsieur Morgan's trap, at his workshop!"

"You said that you wanted to head straight over to the Blacksmith's too, sir," Allardyce reminded him.

"I know, sergeant! But right now, the Reverend Harding is more important," Cooke snapped back. "I suggest that we all go there, right now."

But as they re-entered Harlow Morgan's workshop via the key that Anne Marie still had on her person, they were stopped in their tracks by the sight of the empty pit trap. A bible and a folded frock coat had been left behind on the floor of the trap, at the side…

" 'arding has used his possessions to stand on…!" Anne Marie exclaimed.

"…and thus managed to pull himself over the lip of the pit," Cooke concluded, crouched down to examine the marks on the floor where it met the activated trap, as he pulled out a magnifying glass from a pocket of his jacket. "He scratched the floor repeatedly. It must have been a struggle for him – but he cracked it in the end!"

Drawing out his pistol, Allardyce ran over to the back door and gingerly pushed it. It spun open. "He got out this way, sir," he called out. "No sign of him out here."

"Damn!" Cooke hissed. He looked pointedly at the rest of his party. "Let's track down a certain other person, then."

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Blacksmiths:**

Just a few minutes later, Inspector Cooke, Sergeant Allardyce, Anne Marie, and Victor arrived at the Blacksmith's cottage, in order to find Isabella and Heidi. They came across the aftermath of the fighting that had taken place there. The Blacksmith was now washing his bloodstained pokers – whilst the two Feral Kin he had clobbered with them were lying dead just outside. Meanwhile, his wife – the redheaded Carla Dalton – was aiming a musket towards Isabella von Took, who remained trapped on the roof, prevented from climbing down due to the gun barrel pointed at her.

Upon seeing the arrivals, Isabella's expression first brightened then turned indignant. "Inspector Cooke! Ki-kindly help me. The Blacksmith and his w-wife are holding me ag-against my will!"

Anne Marie gasped, and was about to say something – but Cooke held up his hand to silence her intervention.

"I am Inspector Cooke, from Boston. Why are you pointing a gun at Madam von Took, instead of helping her down from her roof?" he asked Carla.

"My husband and I had barricaded ourselves in the cottage when we heard those wolf creatures running this way, Inspector," Carla answered. "But we were unable to shut our bedroom window to. We heard the commotion through it. This woman climbed onto the roof, but her servant was seized by one of these fiends when she grabbed her mistress's dress…"

"The girl pleaded with her mistress to pull her up. Instead, von Took shot her servant dead – in order to save her own skin!" Hector Dalton growled as he walked out to join them.

"Isabella! You did not...!" Anne Marie blurted out.

"No! I did…did not. This couple are mi-mistaken," Isabella stuttered. "The Feral Kin seized po-poor Heidi and tore her apart!"

Anne Marie turned away from the carnage, and Victor wrapped an arm around her, as if to shield her from the latest horror they had stumbled upon. Heidi's body had indeed been ripped into, and was now scattered around the space next to the cottage. But, as Anne Marie shot a hesitant look over her shoulder, she saw Sergeant Allardyce examining the decapitated head of the handmaiden.

"Single gunshot to the forehead, sir," he declared, looking up at Isabella and the pistol that she was still holding onto with her sweat-drenched right hand. Then it fell from her slippery grasp and bounced off the roof, to fall onto the street – fortunately in a spot that was clear of the gore and blood. Using his handkerchief to pick up the barrel, Cooke carefully opened the pistol up with his gloved hand and examined it. Then he snapped it shut with a note of finality.

"Empty! No wonder Mrs Dalton hasn't backed off from you, Madam von Took," Cooke told her, lifting his face as he did so.

"We heard her say there was only one bullet left. That's why she didn't shoot those…Feral Kin, as you seem to call them. Firing it at her servant instead gave those creatures something to fight over, instead of killing her," Carla reasoned.

"No...! Inspector, you would take the word of these commoners against mine!? You know that I am a noble woman… Heidi pleaded with me to kill her, before she could be torn apar-"

"Except that it's not just their word against yours, Madam von Took!" Cooke continued to address her formally, as his patience ran out. "I have already heard from another witness to the scene – and she too heard your servant plead for you to save her help, not end it! Right now, I do not have time to deal with you. I have a bigger fish to catch. Miss Piaget and Mr Danforth – perhaps you should stay here and assist the Daltons in rebuilding those fallen barrels and anything else as a ladder to get this infernal woman down! But she is to stay within the town, until I return for her!" And with that, he gestured for Sergeant Allardyce to follow him onwards as they tried to gauge their next move.

In the next street, Cooke released his pent-up breath as he shook his head in anger. "Too much is happening, sergeant…"

"Agreed, sir. Where do you think that Reverend Harding have got to now? He paused. "The vicarage?"

Cooke nodded. "Possibly. Let's check it out…," he trailed off, seeing Lord Hanbrook, Magistrate Kroft, Katarina, and the recovered Scarlet Shadow all running towards them. "Wh-what is it?" he asked, seeing the look of worry on their faces.

"The barrier of flames is now exhausted!" his lordship bristled, his eyes finally shining with terror after keeping up his calm, level-headed demeanor for so long. "And the howling has started again – coming from the eastern edge of the town. Bruckner is there! I know it!"

"I suggest that since the Gargoyle and its minions seem to be gone for now, we muster our forces and face this Major Bruckner and the Feral Kin. We need to end this!" the Scarlet Shadow opinioned. He held his dual pistols aloft, a grim expression evident in his eyes, above the red mask.

"I'm up for that. My place is besides you Darcius," Katarina added.

"Of course it is, my sweet. And, likewise, my place is with you." The Scarlet Shadow seemed to chuckle.

The group of six headed eastwards through the streets. Cooke did not know what the time was – except that midnight had come and gone, probably when he had been recuperating from his fight with the Living Statues. The realization that there had still been a part of Thomas Harrow's mind in the statue he had killed haunted the Inspector. He, and the others with him, might yet survive the long night. Or they could end up dead – slaughtered in any one of several ways. Or end up being turned into Feral Kin, or Living Statues…

He shuddered with revulsion at the thought he could become a near-mindless pawn of a malevolent being – forced to kill other people.

Ahead of them, there was shouting and screams. Two panting figures ran around the corner of the next junction – but halted upon seeing the party before them. It took a moment for Cooke to recognize one of them as Captain Townsend, who had evidently lost his tricorn hat in the past few minutes.

"Captain, report! What is happening?" Kroft's chin quivered as he stepped forward and took charge.

"The fires – they've… stopped burning, sir! In the last few minutes…, the werewolf and his minions…have broken into the town!" The Captain wheezed. "Several of the citizen's militia, with Mr Taylor in charge…, are down – but we've got the brutes contained for now to the area outside the Magistrate's Court…"

"How dare they…? That's my patch!" Kroft grimaced, and pulled out from a pocket of his coat what looked to be a hammer with a silver-gilded head. "Let's hit them hard!"

The rest of the group agreed, and between them they made a rudimentary plan.

Katarina began to feel restless. The dimly-remembered visions she had seen when she had been in the chamber of skulls at the Abandoned Keep, were – despite her attempts to prevent them – still largely turning into reality…

 _With the aid of Darcius and that playwright, I was able to save Doctor Manning from death…_ , she considered. _And Darcius is still with me… I was afraid he would die, after that fight in the church…_

The outlaw took off her tricorn hat and wiped her brow. She was feeling warm after her exertions. But that scratch she received when the Gargoyle had seized the lycanthropic Manning and knocked her aside…, it was itching again now. More so than earlier…

 _No…! Oh, nooooo…_

The Scarlet Shadow looked keenly at her. "Are you all right, Katarina?" he asked softly, as he drew closer to her.

Katarina's head began to swim. "I need…to rest, Darcius. You… I want you to stay with me…"

"Why? What is it?"

"Darcius… I did not tell you earlier – because I did not want you to worry. I had visions back at the keep, as you know…" Katarina's throat bobbed. "But one vision I kept to myself…was the sight of you dying…"

He raised his eyebrows. "Dying…? Where? When? How?"

"Don't ask me, Darcius!" Katarina looked him in the eyes, as she held his cheek with her free hand. "That's why I made love to you last night. Because I feared that it would be the last time that we…"

The Scarlet Shadow grabbed her hand and held it tight. "Do you trust me, Katarina?"

"What? Of course I do, Darcius! We have been together for several years now…"

"Then trust me, and follow my instructions, my sweet. That way, neither of us will come to grief. We will be together for many more years to come." His eyes shone at her.

Then Lord Hanbrook called for their attention – and Katarina's mind was turned away from the nagging itch that she could just still feel…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Magistrate's Office:**

After several minutes of shooting and too-close-for-comfort fighting, the Feral Kin suddenly retreated at the sound of Major Bruckner's howl, as he disappeared into the Magistrate's Office. The lupine minions then sprinted into the building themselves, leaving behind a couple of their dead kindred, and some wounded citizen's militia. A few soldiers attended to them – fearful that the wounded would turn into more of the Feral Kin. Whilst the rest of the militia were ordered by Kroft to surround the court building.

Katarina was mollified by the fact that she couldn't see any young or adolescents amongst the wolf-creatures. Jack was somewhere else, then. Hopefully still alive…

"Perhaps… Perhaps I should hold command of the men here – in case Bruckner or his creatures escape," Kroft suggested.

Lord Hancroft and Katarina gave the magistrate dubious looks. But his lordship nodded.

"Stay here, then – Tiberius. The rest of you – follow me!" he commanded the two outlaws, Cooke, and Allardyce.

Katarina felt a snarl form on her lips as she glared at the building, remembering the time, years ago when she had been captured once – as a young pickpocket - and brought to the same court. She had been forced to attend a workhouse for her sentence – which she later managed to escape, before joining Darcius's gang of outlaws. "I hate this place," she spat.

"That goes for me, too," the Scarlet Shadow agreed, tightening his grip on his rapier. "But enter we must!"

The group of five entered the building, checking the side corridors first – which were clear. And so, they opened the door leading into the courtroom and walked in. Katarina's senses were tingling. The few-remaining Feral Kin were standing in various places around the courtroom, growling lowly – but making no move to attack them.

"Something's not right…!" Katarina hissed. "Even the lamps are on – as if for our benefit."

"I concur, Miss Clark," Cooke whispered back. "They are trapped within this building – but are not acting like cornered animals…"

The Inspector was interrupted by a loud snigger. "My reinforcements and I welcome you…!" the voice half-growled.

The large werewolf that was Major Bruckner sat in the magistrate's chair at the far end of the courtroom. He gave them a mocking, lupine grin. One clawed hand was fondly stroking the thin cat on top of the desk before him, whilst Solomon himself turned round and directed his unnerving gaze towards the humans who had just entered.

Lord Hanbrook stepped forward and directed his pistol towards Bruckner. "You and your hated sister will plague this town no more, Major!"

Bruckner waved his hand at the cat. "Solomon…!"

The cat tensed his body, and then leapt towards the arrivals, landing on the floor before them. He bared his fangs and hissed.

Hanbrook frowned – then redirected his gaze back to the seated Major Bruckner. He pulled the trigger – then yelled in shock and pain as the gun misfired in his hand. Cooke quickly grabbed hold of the injured man.

"Witchcraft…!" Cooke spat.

"Of course, Inspector. Solomon has a magical aura of misfortune, which he is able to direct upon those who we desire," Bruckner snarled with relish. His yellow eyes flicked to the large skylight set in the roof of the courtroom. "And now it is time for you realize the truth…"

Cooke followed the Major's gaze, seeing that the full moon was emerging from a cloud. "The truth…?" he dared to ask.

There was another snigger from Bruckner. "Did you really think that _we_ were the ones who were trapped?"

Katarina's eyes were fixed on the moon. It suddenly looked beautiful to her, and it was calling to her in some way – filling her with energy, offering her freedom from all of her struggles and worries. Freedom from everything – including adhering to society and humanity itself…

It was also making her feel feverish. Her itch was reasserting itself – more strongly than ever before. Her bones ached, and she felt as though she was burning up…

With a cry of horror, Katarina dropped her pistol and crossbow – startling the men with her – and unbuttoned her shirt with shaking fingers that were beginning to ache. Katarina then exposed the skin below her brassiere…, and screamed.

From the epicenter of her scratch mark, myriad hairs were emerging from her skin and expanding to cover her belly in a matter of seconds with a layer of…fur. Yes, fur. Even as she stared at her contorting fingers, Katarina felt her bones _crunch_ – not just in her hands, but all throughout her changing skeleton. Her clothes now seemed too tight on her twisting frame – and her now-longer tongue tasted blood in her mouth from her bleeding gums.

Lord Hanbrook and Sergeant Allardyce drew in their breaths sharply, as they saw what was happening.

"Miss Clark – that scratch you received when we were tracking down Manning!" Cooke exclaimed. "It appears that it wasn't the claws of the Gargoyle that struck you. It was..."

"…the infected Doctor Manning! And his spit entered the wound, too. No!" Katarina whispered, frozen to the spot by her metamorphosis. Then, with a loud cry, she fell upon her knees – struck down by another wave of agony from the transformation. Then - hearing the ripping of cloth that was not on her – the female outlaw turned to face the Scarlet Shadow.

"Darcius…? NO! NO!" she screamed.

The outlaw leader threw his rapier to one side, away from the other men – who were now raising their remaining pistols towards him. The Scarlet Shadow tore away his red face mask, to reveal the dark stubble that was growing into facial fur. Underneath his tearing clothes, his body was twisting, changing in a similar way to Katarina. But he did not seem to be in pain. Instead, Darcius Redfern smiled triumphantly – exposing his lengthening canine teeth. A green glow began to appear around his body – encouraging the transformation. He laughed. Mockingly.

"That glow! It's her! The Shadow Witch!" Lord Hanbrook shrieked.

"Correct, George Hanbrook. I was able to turn one of my Feral Kin into a fully-fledged werewolf – and she scratched and knocked out this outlaw. That act allowed me, in turn, to possess him," the Shadow Witch declared in the voice of her host. The eyes, now turning yellow, switched their attention to Katarina. "But the infection of this body had already started before then, Miss Clark! Thanks to you – making love to your man, after you had been infected with the curse of the werewolf. Now you belong to me, also! Come, give in to your growing beast – and we will make the people who oppressed you and Darcius Redfern pay. All three of us share a hatred for this place! And yet that makes it so perfect to be where the pathetic lawmakers of this town will pay for what they have done to us!" The 'Scarlet Shadow Witch' grinned, exposed teeth that were visibly changing into fangs before Katarina's eyes.

"Miss Clark – do not lose your humanity! Remember who you are! This witch is a murderer and a puppet master," Cooke's voice reached Katarina's ears, even as they started to change and become pointed. Her tricorn hat fell from her head.

"Kill the three men!" Major Bruckner snarled at the Feral Kin. And so the attack began – forcing Cooke, Allardyce, and Lord Hanbrook away from Katarina and the possessed Scarlet Shadow, as the lupine creatures howled and bounded over the wooden benches towards them. Cooke tried to look for Solomon – but already the cat was running away from the melee, slipping in-between the panels, to rejoin Bruckner. He aimed and fired – but the gun refused to fire.

 _Blasted jinx cat! At least my pistol didn't misfire, I suppose…_

"Take cover!" he yelled.

Changing tactics, Cooke used his pistol as a makeshift club instead – and succeeded in knocking out the Feral Kin that was about to claw his face. Then he bounded across the room to where the rapier had been thrown, and dived to the floor, avoiding another attack.

"If I could just reach…," he grunted as he strained his outstretched arm in order to grab the blade. "Uhhh…! Got it!"

Shooting upright, Inspector Cooke turned and rammed the rogue's rapier into the chest of the Feral Kin that had sprung back up to attack him. The wolf man shuddered, whimpered, and then turned limp. As Cooke yanked the blade back out, the Feral Kin collapsed and breathed its last.

Panting heavily, the disheveled Inspector hurried over to join his nearby sergeant and Lord Hanbrook, to help defend them from the remaining Feral Kin…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Close by, Katarina gripped the side of the jurors' bench in order to pull herself up from the floor - only to discover that her fingernails had turned into claws. Claws that were digging into the woodwork. Her body was trembling violently now, and it was taking a huge effort of will to control herself, as she gasped and whimpered from the agony of the transformation sweeping through her entire being. Katarina's half-lupine ears twitched at the noise from the nearby fighting. She heard the madly-thumping heartbeats of the Feral Kin and the human combatants. Smelt with her darkening, leathery nose the delicious scent of…fear? Yes, fear. Being emitted from the three men who were fighting for their very lives. She began to drool as she wondered what their furless flesh and vital organs would taste like – and how warm and satisfying their blood would be…

Katarina wailed in despair. Then her attention was diverted by the tearing of her gray pants. She had already removed her uncomfortable, constraining shoes, allowing her clawed feet to shift into a wolf-like form. Meanwhile, her bosom was shrinking – but her furred chest was turning broader and muscular, like a wolf's. Strength was building up in all of her changing muscles, and indeed in every part of her – making her leaner, more powerful. Soon she would become a fine huntress, a voice in her head told her.

A musky scent drew right up to her, making the emerging whiskers around her mouth quiver. Turning her head to the right, she saw the Scarlet Shadow hurriedly taking off and casting aside his coat, even as his other clothes tore apart – mirroring her like two ghastly caterpillars breaking free of their cocoons. A hairy tail now snaked out from the rear of the emergent wolf man. His head and face now fully lupine, the Scarlet Shadow grinned with his grown fangs and bent forward, reaching out with the claws of his paw-like hand to hold Katarina's chin so that she was forced to look at him.

 _Dear god… Darcius looks so strong, so desirable,_ the wild thoughts filled Katarina's numbed mind. _He smells sooo good, too…_

"The pain will soon disappear…if you just give in, my sweet," Darcius – or rather the spirit possessing him, declared with a growl of relish. "Pledge yourself to me…, and I will make you the most senior in our pack…, after Lucian and his Feral Kin bitch, of course. And you will be re-united with Jack, once more. Shadowbrook will…be ours!"

The pain at the base of her spine was too much. Katarina yanked off her belt and pulled down the torn remains of her pants with her claws, freeing her growing furry tail and allowing it to twitch from side to side. Then she cried out as the pressure in her skull built up to an unbearable level. Her nose and mouth began to pull forward to form her new muzzle, thankfully lessening the pain in the process.

Amongst the agony and the overpowering sensations and noise around her that were making it hard to think clearly, Katarina remembered that her outlaw gang – the nearest thing she ever had to a functional family - was now gone. Her comrades having been turned into statues or Feral Kin – or into dead meat…

"Give in…," she repeated the words of the 'Scarlet Shadow Witch'. "Kill the not-kindred… The humans… Make the elders pay for hanging the Mistress. Yes… NO!" she huffed, her voice turning animal-like as she spoke. "I am Katarina…Clark – and I want…Darcius back. Give him to me, you _witch_!"

The wolf man that had been the Scarlet Shadow laughed. "Your Darcius Redfern now serves me! Join us, Katarina… And he – I – will provide all the love that you could want!" The spirit of Elaine Bartlett declared through the dark lips of her unwilling host.

The thought made Katarina shudder. From what she had learned of Bartlett – from various sources – the woman had been spiteful in life, responsible for so many deaths. Including her own husband, who had been known to be a kind-hearted man. Had Bartlett ever truly loved anyone, apart from her brute of a brother? As well as that wretched cat?

The female outlaw felt her mind slipping, along with her will to hold back the transformation. Soon she would become a vicious wolf woman – and another pawn in Bartlett's quest for power and vengeance…

A wild idea flashed into her head. Katarina dived upon the possessed Scarlet Shadow, startling the controlling spirit of Elaine Bartlett – and she began to kiss Darcius's furry cheeks and wet nose. Soon Katarina's muzzle grew fully into place, making kissing with her lips impossible to continue. Instead, she began rubbing her black nose and her own now-furred cheeks against Darcius's face, mixing their scents. The spirit of Elaine Bartlett thrashed against her, snarling in protest at what Katarina was trying to achieve…

"Ddarciuss," Katarina growled. "Come bback to meee…!"

"Nooo! Release me…!" Before Katarina's gaze, the wolf man's eyes flashed an angry yellow. Then, as his struggling lessened, the same eyes turned a human brown again. Into Darcius's brown hues. "K-Katarina…," he croaked, before growling his next words. "I can't hhold Bartlett back…for llong! She ttook advantage of my…bbroken will… My gguilt over killing an innocent mman tonight… Kill me!"

"Ddarciuss…! Nno – I cannot…!"

"You musst! I love you… Use yyour love ffor me…to ffocus your will…to release mmee," the Scarlet Shadow pleaded to her. "Q-quickly…!" he snarled.

The eyes before her were already developing flecks of yellow. Katarina whined – and then summoned up what human spirit that she had left. Abruptly, she dived to one side and picked up one of her discarded shoes. To her relief, her stunted fingers were just able to grip the…

The wolf man bolted up and seized the other one of Katarina's now-russet furred arms. "Drop your weapon, my sweet!" Elaine Bartlett growled through the mouth of the possessed Darcius Redfern. "There is no point in knocking me out! Join me!"

"Nnever…!" Katarina snarled. And with that, she pulled out the short blade inside underneath the sole, turned, and she rammed it into the throat of the wolf man with her remaining strength of will.

Elaine Bartlett stared back at her with shock and horror through the animal eyes of her host. The paw released Katarina and tried to stem the flow of blood. But the female outlaw snarled out her hatred, and punched the wolf man to the floor – before yanking out the blade once more. Then, howling in her grief and fury, she stabbed him in the heart.

The wolf man spluttered blood, wheezing his last breath. But as Darcius Redfern died on the floor of the Magistrate's Court, the green glow of the Shadow Witch's hateful spirit departed the body and floated across the chamber to merge once more with Solomon the cat, who was now sat on top of the judge's chair. His hiss of fury was drowned out by the anguished howling of the newborn werewolf who was mourning the loss of her friend and lover…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Inspector Cooke was bleeding from a cut to his chest from the latest Feral Kin before him. He had dived into its path, to protect the injured Lord Hanbrook who had retreated into the makeshift safety of the defendant's dock.

All of the pistols they, and Sergeant Allardyce, had been carrying were now all empty.

As Cooke staggered and dropped the Scarlet Shadow's rapier, the Inspector leaned against the wooden panels behind him, whilst the male Feral Kin greedily licked his dark lips, savoring the human's fear and weakness in the moments before the kill.

Then came the howl of despair.

Everyone quickly darted their gaze towards the deafening noise, which cut through the souls of the remaining fighters. From his angle, Cooke saw Katarina rise from where she had just fatally stabbed the newborn werewolf that had been the Scarlet Shadow. The blood-dripping blade fell from her half-paws, and the female outlaw drew in deep gulps of air to steady her trembling form as her transformation completed itself. With a final grasp and tear, Katarina pulled and shook off the last of her human clothing, to reveal the fully-fledged, russet-furred wolf woman that she now was. Meanwhile, the shaken Inspector Cooke spied the green glow that had drifted from the fallen Scarlet Shadow, and followed it with his eyes as it vanished into the hissing, spitting, thin cat perched on the judge's seat.

In the next instant, the newest werewolf in the court room turned to face Inspector Cooke and Lord Hanbrook. She snarled, and bolted straight towards them, infectious spittle flying from her gaping jaws. No doubt to join in the ghastly banquet to come, Cooke thought morbidly.

 _This is the end, then…_

Cooke felt a stab of grief for still not being reconciled with his family, after his choice of career – which was at odds with the crop farming that his parents wanted him to take up, following in their path. He felt shame too, for ultimately failing in his duty to protect the townsfolk of Shadowbrook…

Cooke's closed eyes shot open again as he heard the male Feral Kin's scream. Blood from the stooped wolf man splashed onto Cooke's face, as he saw Katarina Clark dive upon the Feral Kin and sink her new fangs into his throat, whilst she sliced at his chest with her claws.

"Lexington!" The howl came from the pale-furred werewolf that was Major Bruckner. His jaws were dripping blood and gore as he raised his furry face from the remains of Sergeant Allardyce's neck…

Bile rose in Cooke's throat at seeing the loss of his trusted aide. He had known Allardyce for only a year, but the bullish man had proved himself to be capable and decent. And now he was gone.

With the Feral Kin that was Lexington dying from blood loss at her balled feet, Katarina growled – and sprinted towards Bruckner. The lycanthropic Major's wide-eyed expression of shock at being attacked by one of his own kind turned to wild fury.

For several moments, Cooke was too stunned to react. Then, as he saw the two wolf people clash and crash their way through the wooden fittings around them, wrecking the court, Cooke's mind snapped back to attention – and he helped to treat his lordship's wound.

Scant seconds later, the double doors to the court room – which Cooke had shut to behind his party as they had entered – burst open again. Magistrate Kroft strode in, his jacket flapping as he moved purposefully. Several of the citizen's militia, hastily-formed earlier in the day by Cooke, Katarina, and the Scarlet Shadow, accompanied the magistrate. They all suddenly halted, seeing the spectacle before them.

Major Bruckner and Katarina were furiously slashing and biting at each other, next to one of the windows. There was a momentarily lull in the fighting as the two werewolves crashed into the judge's bench and Katarina rolled away to avoid having her throat being ripped out – and in that calm of the storm Bruckner, as well as Cooke, looked around and realized that all of the Feral Kin in the chamber were now dead. Bellowing his rage, Bruckner turned and gave Solomon a meaningful look, before diving for cover. In response, there was a brief glow of magik emitted by the scrawny cat. An instant later, the window exploded – showering the howling Katarina with glass shards.

Then the image of Solomon blurred and vanished.

"My court room! You…you… _animals!_ " Kroft squealed. He turned to the men with him, their improvised weapons at the ready. "Kill these werewolves, this ins-!"

"No!" Cooke yelled out. "The red-furred one saved us! Kill only Bruckner!"

"A werewolf…hero!?" As Kroft stared back at the Inspector in disbelief, the pale-furred Major Bruckner snarled, and took a running leap for the shattered glass in the window frame – and landed on the street outside. The guards still posted outside screamed their terror. There was the noise of someone meeting their ghastly end.

Then Katarina pulled herself upright with the aid of the wrecked wooden bench besides her, and yanked out the glass embedded in her furred flesh. Before the wide-eyed gazes of Cooke, Lord Hanbrook, Magistrate Kroft, and the citizen's militia, Katarina's wounds stopped bleeding. Giving Cooke a look that seemed to convey sorrow, and anguish, the wolf woman turned sharply towards the broken window, snarled, and then took a running leap for the window herself – clearly set on chasing Bruckner. Her lean form sailed through the gap.

Cooke rushed to the window, his shoes crunching on the broken glass on the floor underneath him. He was in time to see Bruckner rise up from the twitching body of a man whose neck artery he had just slashed open…

The lycanthropic Major curled his blood-drenched dark lips at both Katarina and Cooke – then he bolted away on his balled feet out of town, heading east past the now-demolished barrier and the site of the extinguished cordon of flames. Katarina sprung up from her curled position on the street where she had landed and rolled, and snarled at the men who were taking a step towards her with their torches tilted in her direction. As they backed off, Katarina promptly ran through the cleared gap in their ranks – taking up the chase as she raced after the now-departed Major Bruckner.

"They are heading for the covered bridge. We should hunt Bruckner down – and end this!" Kroft seethed.

"No, Tiberius," Lord Hanbrook wheezed as he stood next to Cooke, pressing one hand against his wound. "Let the werewolves fight…between themselves! First of all, we should…attend to the wounded – and the dead. I am…too exhausted to go on. And I must ensure that Lucy…and my wife are safe, also."

"Yes, I concur, your lordship…," Cooke declared flatly, panting for breath and feeling suddenly drained now that the immediate danger had passed. He turned and walked over to where Sergeant Allardyce lay sprawled over the courtroom floor. With a shaking hand, he reached out as he bent down and closed the man's wide, unseeing eyes.

"I too…am unable to go on, right now," he muttered darkly to the grim-looking Magistrate Kroft and Lord Hanbrook.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen:**

 **Hunter's Courage**

 **The Covered Bridge:**

Major Bruckner panted heavily as he reached the center of the covered bridge and fell upon his knees, feeling overwhelmed by the churning storm of emotions raging inside of him – frustration, rage, and also sorrow at the way the showdown in the Magistrate's Court had gone against him and his Feral Kin.

Despite inhabiting the body of her lover, his sister had failed to lure the newborn werewolf Katarina Clark onto their side…

Through his telepathic link with his sister, Bruckner had been fully aware of Elaine possessing the Scarlet Shadow. And so he, acting in accordance with Elaine's orders from afar, had led the Feral Kin in occupying the courtroom, laying the trap for Lord Hanbrook, Inspector Cooke, and Sergeant Allardyce. But out of those ranged against them in the courtroom, only the sergeant had fallen. And now the Scarlet Shadow was dead also – killed by that female outlaw whose will had been stronger then he and Elaine had expected.

The wooden floor of the bridge shook violently as Bruckner howled and slammed his clenched half-paw onto it, punching a small hole. He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it, remembering the need to control his fury and channel it for their vengeance against the town elders. But the losses of his minions had shaken his confidence.

Bruckner raised his eyes to the eastern horizon before him. The sky was still dark, still dotted with stars. Dawn was still some three hours or so away, he told himself. He would not revert to his pitiful human form just yet…

The last remnants of his Feral Kin pack surrounded him, whining – upset at seeing their pack leader having come back alone and injured. The stooped lupine female that was Ursula licked at the claw marks Katarina had inflicted, helping them to heal. Bruckner felt a twinge of pity that Ursula's mind, like the rest of the Feral Kin, was now more animal than human. When Shadowbrook was theirs, he would get Elaine to use her magik to turn Ursula into a sentient werewolf – like she had with the female Feral Kin in the church. Then he and Ursula would truly rule over their pack, in the name of the Shadow Witch…

Elaine herself was hovering just above Solomon the cat, disdainfully regarding each of the few Feral Kin present. Besides Ursula, there was Jack, a boy and girl from Brooksvane – plus two adult males and two adult females, again formerly human residents of Brooksvane.

"Not enough… The Feral Kin are not strong enough! My magik has accelerated their transformations, and trapped them in their current forms – but it has also made them twisted and lacking stamina. And my powers are nearly spent. I need to kill an elder, and feed off their tormented soul to become strong again!" the spirit of Elaine Bartlett spat, tensing her transparent fists. She turned to Bruckner. "Are you healed, my brother?"

"Lexington…," Bruckner rasped.

She scowled. "What of him?"

"He is dead! He was the loyal right hand of my smuggling mob. A good fighter…, and now he is gone!" Bruckner snarled and raised his lupine head towards the floating spectre of his sister, whose form was both wavering and slightly fading in and out of existence. "And for what? What have we achieved so far!?"

"Guard your temper, brother of mine! We have driven off the Gargoyle, and…," Elaine Bartlett trailed off.

"All of the town elders are still alive – are they not!?" Bruckner snarled, rising upon his balled feet. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his half-paws, wishing that his sister wasn't a ghost that he was unable to briefly throttle. It would have taught her a lesson – encouraged her not to fail to kill their shared enemies during the next chance. If there was a next chance, that was…

"Yes…" The expression on the Shadow Witch's flickering face darkened. "Do _not_ drop your resolve, brother of mine! We have brought terror to the pitiful peasants of Shadowbrook – and we have made the hypocrite elders quake in their shoes!"

"Sunrise is not far away, Elaine!" Bruckner brought his muzzle close to his sister's spectral face, and winced as he felt the chill generated by her presence. "Come the dawn, the Feral Kin here will still be as wild as they are now – but I will become a mere _human_ again," he spat.

"You will be able to change once more at the next sunset, Lucien. But you are right, my sweet. So before you revert, we need to make a final strike with what we have here." The Shadow Witch's scowl turned to a smirk. "Those interlopers – those would-be-heroes – have made our aims more difficult to achieve than I had expected. But if we cannot yet kill the elders here, then we should turn our attention towards Hanbrook Manor instead… Her ladyship is still there, having survived the plague of rats that my magik unleashed upon the household through my spy… _Wait!_ "

At the same time as Elaine Bartlett held up her transparent hand, Lucien Bruckner and the Feral Kin sniffed the air. They all turned to see, lit only by the lights of Shadowbrook and the full moon above, the slowly-approaching, russet-furred humanoid-werewolf that was Katarina Clark. She stopped her bipedal walk upon seeing their yellow-eyed stares, but snarled a challenge – close to where the bridge met the ground on the Shadowbrook side. Her own amber-colored eyes focused upon the ghost of Elaine Bartlett.

"You wwill…pay for wwhat…you did…to Darr-ci-uss!" Katarina growled. She raised her claws. Her tail swished as she tensed herself to strike.

The Shadow Witch laughed mockingly. "A werewolf…hero? How amusing." She turned to Jack and a transformed couple from Brooksvane. "Kill her," she snapped at them.

But as the three Feral Kin snarled and ran towards Katarina, they all halted and sniffed, taking in the scent of the intruder. Then they whined.

"What…!?" Bruckner rasped.

In an instant, the hissing Shadow Witch was besides the female Feral Kin and she rested her hand on the minion's head, closing her eyes in concentrated thought. Then the ghostly witch snapped her eyes open and she hissed.

"This woman and her husband… They received money from Katarina's gang! Money that paid for their rent and food. Money taken from the rich! They remember you…" Elaine Bartlett turned her narrowed, blazing eyes from Katarina to Jack. "And this juvenile recognizes his fellow outlaw… Jack will not fight you! _Traitor boy!_ Your loyalty is to your alpha male, you whelp! And to _me!_ I remade you! Made you stronger. Gave you a purpose!"

"Thhank yyou…," Katarina growled softly to the three Feral Kin before her. Then she suddenly bolted past the Shadow Witch – and sprinted straight for Major Bruckner, who snarled back at her, eager to prove his superiority over the rogue pup.

Then Katarina changed direction and dived upon Solomon the cat.

"No! Solomon – run!" the Shadow Witch yelled. "I will aid you, Lucien." And with that, her floating spirit zipped back to Bruckner and entered his body – even as Solomon shot along the road leading towards Brooksvane and Tidewater. The first of the Feral Kin who blocked Katarina from harming the cat was soon cut down from a slash to her throat that was fast and accurate. Katarina grinned. She might not be using guns or her crossbow now – but she had her new claws and fangs instead. She was still deadly. More so, in fact.

Ursula's lupine eyes widened, and she pressed her half paw to the wound, desperate to stem the flow of blood. Then Katarina managed to slam her half-paw into the female Feral Kin's jaw, sending Ursula spinning and staggering into the nearest pillar that helped to support the roof of the bridge. There was a short, sharp cry from Ursula as her lupine skull struck the pole. Simultaneously, a _'crack'_ resounded.

Ursula's body wavered, and then flopped to the floor like a rag doll.

"That's _yyour_ lover…dead too, nnow!" Katarina snarled, twisting round to face Bruckner. The death of the cat would have to wait, she realized.

Bruckner roared his fury – and dived upon her.

The nearest Feral Kin approached, ready to assist their pack alpha if needed. But then Jack and the couple with him snarled as they rushed in, freezing the others to the spot. Collectively, the pack slowly backed off – giving Bruckner and Katarina the space for their showdown as they fought furiously, their swiping claws cutting into the woodwork around them and tearing chunks away as the combatants rolled and crashed into the side of the bridge, gradually weakening the structure…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Karl groaned as he was unceremoniously dropped a meter onto the ground by the Grotesque that had seized him within the olde woods. Before he could arm himself, another pair of Grotesques grabbed hold of his arms and pinned them behind his back – whilst the one that had kidnapped him landed on the window sill of the unlit building that stood before him. There was enough moonlight for Karl to glimpse the creature now squeezing through the broken window, and disappearing inside.

Karl took in the still, silent dark outline of the windmill towering above him as his heart pounded in his chest. He was sweating, he was grimy, and he was tired – but he still needed to focus. To keep his wits about him.

 _They have seized control of the windmill in our absence, it seems. I wonder if their creator has told them about the horror in the basement_ , he thought.

Memories of his party from earlier pained him, given the knowledge of what had since taken place. Thomas and Lucy receiving the Curse of Stone. Thomas being turned into a statue – whilst Lucy had been saved by Karl and Harlow Morgan, only to have one curse replaced by another, instead. One where she was now a barely-controlled werewolf who had initially tried to kill him…

And Heidi had turned out to be a spy for Isabella von Took. The German girl had bolted out on them, taking their hunting rifle.

The Grotesques suddenly moved, frog-marching Karl to the open doorway of the windmill, where one of the doors lay broken off its hinges. Then he was released and shoved through the gap. Immediately, however, taloned hands seized his shoulders from behind. Karl yelled as he was tossed to one side, crashing into the wall. When he raised his head from where he had fallen, Karl saw the blue-white bulk of the hated Gargoyle slowly advance upon him.

"You again…," Karl spat. His lips then formed a hard smile. "Your minions have not managed to take Shadowbrook, have they? Otherwise, you would be there – not here. And how did your forces fare against Major Bruckner and his Feral Kin, hmm?"

The Gargoyle stopped and angled its face as if to peer at the soldier thoughtfully. _"It Seems That You Know Much, Human…,_ " it rasped at him with its mind.

"I make it my business to know what I need to know, in order to survive…" Karl shifted himself so that he was on his knees. "How about you answer my questions?"

" _The Shadow Witch, And The Wolf-Creatures That She Commands, Were Stronger Than I Had Anticipated When We Clashed In The Woods. They Drove Me Away! But I Retreated To This Place, To Revive… The Battle Between Her Forces And Mine Is Not Over! I Will Prevail Over HER! I Will Wear Down The Defenders Of Shadowbrook And Claim My Territory. By Right Of Conquest!"_ The Gargoyle hissed, exposing its stone fangs. " _Now You Will Answer My Questions, Man Of Knowledge! Who Else Besides You And The People Of Shadowbrook Oppose Me?"_

Karl chuckled. "Do you want all of their names, Gargoyle? There's that Inspector and his sergeant, a noblewoman and her retinue, a French schoolteacher who is stronger than she thinks, and a playwright who is apparently braver than he realizes. Plus, the Scarlet Shadow and his wiry lady outlaw. Oh, and amongst others there's a young lady who is now free of your Stone Touch." His face darkened. "You will pay for what you did to Thomas. He was a brash ruffian, but he was my friend."

The eyes of the villainous beast before him narrowed. _"The Female That I Claimed Near Here Has Broken My Magik Over Her?!"_ It roared in sudden fury – and backhanded Karl with its fist, sending him flying onto the floor again. Then it clamped its hand on Karl's right leg. _"You Will Replace Her!"_ it bellowed into Karl's aching mind.

He screamed as the monster's hand glowed blue. Agonizing pain sliced into the bones and muscles of his lower leg. Moments later, the hand ceased glowing. It was withdrawn, and the terrible sensation slowly faded away, to leave Karl's leg feeling stiff and heavy. He sobbed with the knowledge of what had befallen him, but he forced himself to remain focused. Slowly he turned to face his inhuman tormentor. Why had the Gargoyle stopped?

The creature was leering at him. Then it closed its eyes and frowned – as if in deep concentration.

 _Communication with another, from afar?_ Karl asked himself. After all, the creature seemed to speak to people with its mind rather than in the human tongue…

The moment ended. The Gargoyle opened its eyes and leaned forward over the slumped soldier. A talon was held close to Karl's throat.

" _What Else Do You Know, Mortal? Speak The Truth – Or Suffer My Stone Touch Again…"_

"We know that you are in league with Reverend Harding!" Karl spat. "He controls you!" His throat bobbed with fear, wondering what the reaction would be to his outburst.

It was not amongst the possibilities that he was expecting. The winged monstrosity laughed.

" _Harding Is Merely My Tool! It Suits Me To Carry Out His Mission Of Vengeance On The Mortals Of Shadowbrook – Whilst I Create An Army For Myself. An Army Of Living Statues And My Winged Pets. An Army Now Tested – Whilst I Enjoy My Freedom From Those Who Tried To Bind Me To Their Will…"_

The being suddenly fell silent, perhaps realizing that it had said too much.

Karl gathered his courage as he stared at his tormentor - the one who had sealed Thomas's fate - in the eyes. "Whose will?" he dared to ask.

" _That Is Enough! You Will Remain Here, Human Hunter…"_ The Gargoyle straightened itself and faced a Grotesque that was perched inside an emptied burr stone. It was the same creature that had seized Karl from the woods, he realized – judging by a scar to its cheek.

The Grotesque looked back at the one that had given it life, and bowed its head to the Gargoyle. Then the Gargoyle strode outside, before flapping its bat-like wings and taking to the night air – leaving the perched Grotesque with sentry duty over watching the disabled prisoner, Karl surmised.

The Grotesque stared at Karl for several moments, as it moved its gaze up and down his body. Then it grinned, before curling its body into the resting position it had been in – the burr stone being directly between Karl and the doorway to freedom. As Karl's eyes slowly adjusted more to the moonlight that streamed in through the doorway and a small window, he slowly tried to bend and stand upon his legs – including the stone-touched one – whilst leaning against the wall behind him.

So the Gargoyle was using Harding. More so than Harding was using the Gargoyle, thought Karl. Interesting…

His keen eyesight, now having adjusted to the gloom of the moonlit level of the windmill, made out the lantern hanging on a nearby hook. Managing to light it, Karl crept along the wall, half-dragging his afflicted leg along, and reached a spot where he could take everything in. The trapdoor to the basement meal floor was still broken – but peering down, Karl could see the foot of the wooden steps was now guarded by the living statue of what might have once been the wife of the miller or the foreman. It turned its mop-capped head to glance up at him, and then returned to its sentry duty – watching over the trapdoor. It seemed that the demonic vanguard was still down below, lurking somewhere in the darkness of the basement, possibly biding its time…

Karl froze as he spied the pair of Grotesques just outside the windmill entrance – the same pair that had frog-marched him inside, he reckoned. Only their current postures and screeching made it clear that whilst they were preoccupied with each other, rather than standing guard, they were engaged in something that made Karl's throat fill with bile. He shuddered with disgust.

The creatures were…mating.

Karl turned round and took a deep breath, suddenly fearful. He turned and managed to force himself over to the burr stone where the sentry stirred at the intrusion of the light. It raised its face and hissed menacingly, baring its claws. He retreated; his fear confirmed as he saw what the sentry was curled around.

A clutch of eggs, set in a bed of hay that the creature had built. The Grotesques were breeding. The Gargoyle had thought in advance when it had given these creatures life.

And besides being interrogated, there was a reason why the Gargoyle had not yet killed him, or turned him into a statue. Having just his leg afflicted with the Stone Touch prevented him from escaping, whilst…

"…those eggs will hatch, and the babies will want food. And I am here to be part of their larder…," Karl whispered to himself in horror.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Covered Bridge:**

Katarina yelped and twisted her agile lupine form away from the flying pieces of wood that spun out from the shattered side of the bridge. Bruckner had slashed his sharp, vicious talons into it – having aimed for the head of the new werewolf.

She rolled aside and quickly rose to her feet – using her tail to aid her rapid change of direction. Katarina was still getting to grips with her changed body, her heightened senses, and her increased strength. The claw marks that Bruckner had already inflicted upon her in their brawl were already healing – but then so too were those that she had been quick enough to afflict on Bruckner's face and chest. Despite her success in challenging her anger and power against her indirect maker, Katarina was under no illusions that he and she were equals. Bruckner was physically stronger, hardier, and more ruthless. He was also more experienced in his humanoid werewolf form than she was.

Plus, he was being driven by his calculating sister, whose spirit was possessing and aiding him…

Her aggressive combat would not sustain her for long.

Nevertheless, Katarina's animal instincts were guiding her. To stay down would be to appear weak, and would give Bruckner the chance to finish her off…

She paused as she looked beyond Bruckner's wounded shoulder. Beyond the gathering of the motionless Feral Kin – who were evenly divided between those who wanted to kill her and prove their worth to their pack alpha, and those such as Jack who wanted Katarina to triumph over the Major. At the eastern end of the covered bridge, a couple of shapes had appeared – downwind. She stiffened, but then slowly relaxed a little. Some instinct told her that…

But there was no time to think any further. Bruckner had lunched himself at her again. The world spun round in a whirlwind of snarling, slashing, tearing, and sprayed blood as they collided and fought furiously for supremacy. Then Katarina found herself being thrown towards the broken gap in the side of the bridge. She slid along the blood-streaked wooden floor and came to a halt. Katarina whimpered as she pressed one half- paw over the deep slash running down the outside of her stomach and intestines. She willed herself to heal quicker. Then she realized something else besides the agonizing pain, as her body began to dip. Where she was slumped right now, her head and upper back had cleared the edge of the broken floor and side of the bridge. If she moved an inch in the wrong direction, or if the cracks in the now-creaking floor widened further, she would be taking an unplanned swim in the roaring waters of the River Shadow below her…

Katarina's heart pounded. She could only hope for one thing now. For Lucien Bruckner – and the Shadow Witch within him - to continue to focus upon her.

Bruckner appeared in the lower half of Katarina's swirling vision. Blood from a cut to her brow was oozing into her eye. But she still saw the pale-furred, muscular wolf man grin and scoff at her.

"You pathetic pup... You should have accepted your place in our pack, Katarina Clark. Now you will die, instead! My sister will perform the honors," Bruckner snarled. And with a pulse of energy emitting from his body, provided by the Shadow Witch, the shockwave struck Katarina and the damaged wood underneath her. The planks suddenly cracked – and then the wolf woman disappeared through the widened tear in the bridge. Her howl was silenced as Bruckner – and the Shadow Witch within him – saw Katarina plunge and splash into the churning waters. Within seconds the wailing werewolf was swept away downstream towards the marsh…

But both Bruckner and his sister were perturbed by the wide lupine grin on Katarina's face in the moment before she fell…

The growling of the Feral Kin made Bruckner spin round and take in the new arrivals he had missed before. There on the bridge, having advanced from downwind from the side of the bridge closer to the olde woods were two more werewolves – both of them in quadruped form. Then the larger of the two, a male, began to change form – his limbs and torso shifting into a more humanoid form. The female beside him closed her eyes and followed suit. Her bones 'crunched' and her muscles twisted, until she stood upright alongside her companion. Both of the intruders snarled at Bruckner.

The Feral Kin collectively whimpered and slowly backed away.

"Who dares to challenge us now…?" Bruckner roared in anger.

"Your…mmaker…," the male growled back as he flexed his clawed half paws ready for the battle that he had been dreading, but knew he finally had to face.

Two hunters versus a more powerful, and possessed, hunter.

"Ahh…," Bruckner rumbled back. "The one who twice failed to kill me – or so my sister has told me. Firstly at the crossroads, when you slaughtered two of my men. And later at my farm, when you failed to get past my Brutus." The Major snorted. "Even with another of our kind, you will fail to kill me again. But I thank you for the gift that you gave me. The gift of lycanthropy, which my sister was able to develop in me – and then twist into creating our Feral Kin here!"

" 'Tis no gift… I created you…by accident, Major. And now…I will take responsibility…for my mistake – and put you…down!"

Bruckner laughed. "Before I kill you… Who are you two?"

"I amm…Llucy…Hhanbbrook," Lucy snarled, managing to speak with a concentrated effort.

"And I am…Harlow Morgan…," Harlow growled in defiance.

"Morgan…? The little Welsh inventor who was at the Manor, on Friday night? YOU…are my sire?" Bruckner fired back, stunned by the revelation. He bellowed in rage.

Lucy's growl joined Harlow's. Acting on their instincts and anger now - as well as an instinct to protect the town, their territory - Harlow and Lucy leapt at Major Bruckner, and he bounded forward also. The three wolf people met in mid-air – and chaos unfolded once more before the watching pack of Feral Kin…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

Gustav the footman groaned as the pounding on his door refused to stop. Rising from his bed at the tavern where he had been staying since accompanying Mistress Isabella and Heidi into town, the gray-whiskered man checked that his nightgown was presentable enough. Keeping his feet bare, he lit the candle on his bedside stand and shuffled to the door.

"Who…is it?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"It is me, Gustav! Quick – open up."

Startled by the voice, the footman unlocked the door. Isabella von Took slipped inside and swiftly shut the door behind her. Gustav was surprised to see his mistress looking distraught, with her eyes still red from crying. She was normally the epitome of keeping her emotions under control…

"What…? What has happened, madam?" he spluttered. "I know about the attacks on the town, of course – but since there was nothing that I could do, given my feeble state…"

"…you still managed to get your deep sleep. I envy you, Gustav," Isabella muttered. "If you are now alert enough, kindly pack your things! We are heading back to the manor. I need to speak to Josette… I mean Lady Hanbrook."

Gustav frowned. "Where is Heidi, my lady?"

Isabella looked to be on the verge of crying again. She was now visibly trembling. "Heidi…is dead, Gustav…"

"My lady!"

"It is my fault…!" She quickly told him what had happened on the roof of the Blacksmiths – and then added: "…then a pair of Living Statues attacked our group there. "I…was injured in the clash – then I ran off, leaving Anne Marie, Victor, and the Daltons to the fight. I…I am a coward, Gustav. I wanted adventure – and I have certainly found it here… But I have done wrong… I need my friend, Josette. Then I must decide…what to do."

The old man bowed his head in sympathy, and then he looked up. "You wish me to walk with you to Hanbrook Manor? Whilst it is still dark?"

"No, Gustav. We travel now – but not on foot. It would be quicker…and safer…if we took a coach. The coach house is next to this tavern, after all."

"But the coachman will not be working at this time of night, Mistress von Took!"

Isabella gave him a steely look. "Correct. So we must steal one of the coaches ourselves…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Covered Bridge:**

Lucy Hanbrook yelped as she was sent flying by another of Major Bruckner's wild swipes. Crashing into one of the Feral Kin, Lucy panted whilst the gash to the side of her lupine head healed. As a human, she had been noted by her parents to recover quickly from wounds during her childhood. Youth, and being of good stock, her mother had proudly told her. Except that Thomas's discovery of her true date of birth had thrown the issue of her parentage into a state of confusion.

And now, being a werewolf, Lucy's powers of recuperation had been noticeably boosted. Her mind was clearer than before – having fed on a pair of hares with Harlow, soon after Karl had been snatched away from them. She remembered her all-consuming hungry and savagery which had driven her to attack Karl – and she felt horror and shame at what she had nearly achieved. She also felt gratitude towards Harlow for stopping her from murdering her childhood friend.

 _The full moon above… Giving the beast in me power. Cannot trust myself around humans yet… But my wolf now accepts Karl. The bond between us… It has helped me to hold back the beast,_ the human side of Lucy reflected to herself, somewhere in the swirling confusion within her psyche between wolf and woman.

After the Grotesque had abducted Karl, Lucy had wanted to chase the winged creature – to rescue Karl. Instead, she and Harlow had come across the hares – and the need to hunt, kill, and feed, had taken over. After that, another distraction had reached their pointed ears in the noise of fighting from the covered bridge. And investigating, she and Harlow had arrived in time to witness the conclusion to the battle between Bruckner and…some female werewolf. Lucy did not know who she was – but she felt grief that the other she-werewolf had been flung into the river by Bruckner and the Shadow Witch.

Teamwork… That was the key, the human part of her mind reasoned. It was too late to fight alongside the downed she-werewolf – but she would continue to fight alongside her maker, her pack mate, in order to save Shadowbrook from Bruckner and his manipulative sister.

Feeling her head wound heal, Lucy was surprised to see two of the younger Feral Kin before her stretch out their furred arms to help her up. A male and a female. They sniffed at her – and in turn Lucy drank in the scents of the adolescents, committing them to memory. Then, standing up upon her balled feet, Lucy heard the howling - and spun round in time to see Bruckner and Harlow, still locked in their deadly dance, fall from the side of the wrecked bridge. She wailed for Harlow, as her creator and mentor splashed into the River Shadow, alongside Bruckner – debris from the just-broken parts of the bridge floating alongside them. The churning waters began to carry the combatants downstream…

Snarling, Lucy turned and sprinted for the Shadowbrook side of the bridge – her new physique and full-moon fuelled psyche making short work of the bushes in her way as she climbed down to the west side of the river. The dark was no hindrance to her – her night vision was now excellent, and her heightened hearing and sense of smell soon draw Lucy to where she needed to be.

The two wolf men were just a yard or so away from the riverbank – their muscular arms and half paws now locked in a wrestling deadlock, as they struggled to keep their heads above water whilst being carried along by the river. But even as she watched, her heart pounding with apprehension, Lucy saw Harlow gradually being overcome by Bruckner. The outline of the paler-furred wolf man was glowing with a green aura, that was… Yes, slowly getter weaker. Lucy chewed her dark lip with her sharp teeth in thought. She could sense the malevolent female ghost that was empowering Bruckner inside of him. Was the Shadow Witch's magik finally weakening…?

"Lu-ceee…," Harlow wailed as he began to slip back into the river underneath the weight of the larger wolf man.

Howling, Lucy dived into the River Shadow without hesitation – feeling a lupine need to protect her pack mate and creator, as well as her human desire to save the life of the man who had delivered her from the Gargoyle's Curse of Stone. But once in the shifting waters, she had to fight to steer her course towards the wolf men. Once she had reached them, Lucy grabbed hold of Bruckner's broad shoulders from behind with her half-paws, pulling him off Harlow.

Bruckner sneered, and turned on her. Within moments, Lucy was being borne backwards by the Major's greater weight. She panicked and slashed at his arms and face. But he snarled, and pressed down on her forehead with his half paw.

"If I cannot kill your parents this night, Lucy Hanbrook, I will hurt them instead by drowning you…!" And with that, he dunked her into the cold waters of the Shadow and held her there.

Lucy's scream came out as a gurgle of bubbles as both the human and wolf halves of her spirit lashed out in terror via her limbs, desperately trying to undermine Bruckner in some way before she lost all of her precious breath. Already she was beginning to lose consciousness…

As Lucy managed to jerk her face forwards, breaking the surface, she heard the roar. Harlow's roar of fury. She saw Bruckner's head turn. There was a blur of motion – and then something impacted with the Major's face. He screamed and let go of Lucy.

Lucy felt her floating body crash into a boulder in the middle of the river. Gasping, she looked again at Bruckner, and then stared in amazement. Harlow had evidently grabbed one of the broken planks of wood from the bridge from the river. Then he had swung it into Bruckner's face. The Major had now collapsed upon his knees in a shallow bend of the river alongside Harlow. He was struggling to remove the plank from his face. More specifically, his trembling forepaws were unable to remove the large nail at the end that had been embedded in his eye.

Harlow panted and shot her a glance that conveyed more than words as he growled. Gathering her remaining strength, Lucy forced herself towards the shallow water to her left. Once there, she and Harlow grabbed hold of Major Bruckner together. How he was still alive, Lucy was not sure – except that his werewolf nature and the power of his sister must have been the reasons why.

"No… Mercy…!" Bruckner rasped.

"I doubt that you…and your sister…understand the word…," Harlow snarled. He grimly nodded at Lucy, and she nodded back. Then they dunked Bruckner's head underneath the surface of the water – and held him there. They did not let go, even when the Major's talons scrapped their arms in desperation. Nor did they release him when the flurry of air bubbles dwindled to a few, before stopping altogether.

There came the piercing cry of a woman's scream. It was full of fury and hatred, and yet it was also the wail of a grieving lady. A green glowing, mist-like shape rose from the body of the drowned wolf man, and hung in the night air for a moment. Lucy took in the fluttering hooded cloak, the smooth face underneath it, and the murderous glare within the sunken eyes that glared back at her and Harlow. Then the scream and the hateful apparition of the Shadow Witch faded and dispersed into nothing.

Without an unconscious body close by, Elaine Bartlett's spirit had gone. But Lucy's instincts told her that the ghost had only been defeated - not destroyed.

Lucy panted alongside Harlow. Then, acting as one, they dragged Bruckner's body between them onto the riverbank and dumped him on the mud at the edge of the marsh. Collapsing onto their knees with sudden exhaustion, the victors of the Major's final showdown leaned against each other and tentatively licked each other's wounds, helping them to heal quicker, even as the water continued to drip from their soaked fur. Then they sniffed the air, and spun round. The surviving Feral Kin were standing on the riverbank – their heads bowed, and their tails tucked in between their legs. They whined, and then they sank onto all fours, as if in submission. Harlow and Lucy took in the tilted heads and inquisitive looks directed to them.

Harlow turned to Lucy and grinned. "It appears…that we have…gained a pack, Lucy," he growled softly. "They now…await _our_ command."

Lucy's mind reeled from their unexpected change of fortune. She had already become a pack leader? But Harlow was the one they should all follow and obey! And what was to happen now…?

"Kkarl…," she rasped. " _Our_ pack…save Karl…"

"Agreed..." Harlow shook himself, making Lucy yelp as she was splashed. Still grinning, the inventor rose upon his balled feet and helped to pull Lucy up. She huffed and shook herself dry also, before walking alongside Harlow on her rear paws to take claim over their new pack…


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen:**

 **These Roads Aren't Safe**

 **Shadowbrook:**

Minutes after his awakening by his mistress – and with the doors to the coach house having been opened by Isabella's skeleton key and lock picks - Gustav got two horses fitted with their harnesses and bound them to one of the carriages. Opening up the door for Isabella, Gustav then stopped as he heard his lady gasp.

Turning around, he saw the pistol pressed against the side of Isabella's head. In the gloom of the unlit coach house, a third figure could now be seen in the light from the torches in the street.

The Reverend Harding, eyes narrowed in determination, looked ready to shoot as he held his gun steady. With his other hand, he grabbed hold of the noblewoman and twisted her arm behind her back.

"What is the meaning of this, reverend?" Isabella hissed.

"I heard you talking between yourselves about your destination… I too could do with a ride to the manor, Madam von Took." Harding sniffed.

"But why the gun, your reverence…?" Gustav blurted.

"I will explain, Gustav." Isabella took pity on her footman. "Whilst I was at the Blacksmiths, Anne Marie was good enough to tell me what the reverend here has been doing. He has been harboring a vicious being in his crypt. A living gargoyle. A gargoyle that has, by magik, animated the grotesques on the church. And this gargoyle has killed people – and turned several others into living statues."

"What! But…wh-why?" Gustav stammered.

"This town is full of sinners! The Gargoyle is punishing them. And I need its aid to defend Shadowbrook from those werewolves! And also to punish the one who killed my father!" Harding spat. One eye twitched. "Now… No more talk. Into the coach you go, madam. Whilst your driver takes us where we both wish to be."

Isabella nodded at Gustav to comply. Shaking, the old man climbed up to his seat, as Isabella and Harding got into the carriage…

Several minutes later, Isabella tried to relax as the stagecoach jolted her and Harding as they headed along the road that led to Hanbrook Manor. The barricade was down and the fires were no longer burning. The dark streets were almost empty, and no one had stopped them. There had been no sign of militia either. As if their attention had been elsewhere, Isabella considered.

She glanced out of the window upon her left-hand side. The countryside here was lit only by the full moon high above. None of the scattered houses had their lanterns or candles burning. The residents were either not in their houses – possibly having fled or were perhaps dead. Or maybe they had barricaded themselves in and snuffed out all light, to sit in the dark, preying that the Grotesques and wolf-creatures would not come a'calling – whilst desperately waiting for the dawn, which was still two-three hours away…

Isabella sneaked a glance to the man facing her. To add insult to injury, Harding had made her sit in the backward-facing seat, whilst he faced forward, his pistol still in his hand, at the ready - though he was resting his hand just above his knee. She tried to think about how to change the situation to her advantage.

"Even if you do discover and kill whoever it was who was responsible for your father's death… What then, Reverend Harding?" she barked at him. "You are a fugitive now. A man who appears to be short on sleep, to look at you."

His eye twitched again. A stab of fear spiked Isabella's heart. She was under no illusion about the state of the vicar's aggravated mind.

"One stage at a time, Madam von Took," he growled.

"You plan to use me as a hostage as you flee the township? Or to kill me - as well as potentially killing Lady Hanbrook?" Isabella ventured. "You have strayed far from God's path, sir!"

Harding raised his pistol at his prisoner. "Be…silent!" he warned her.

Isabella tried to calm her pounding heart, as she furiously thought of different potential ways that she could try to turn matters around. Then, having made her decision, the noblewoman forced herself to smile as she reached up with both hands to remove her black choker.

"What is the meaning of this?" Harding challenged her, his eyes burning with suspicion.

"I am just offering you the ruby set into my choker, reverend. As payment if you will kindly _not_ kill me or Josette," Isabella declared sweetly. "Here!" And with that, she leaned forward and tossed it onto the floor – on Harding's right side. As his eyes flicked down to follow its path, Isabella tensed herself and yelled at the top of her voice.

"STOP!"

Gustav obediently halted the horses immediately – and the carriage continued to move for a second or so longer, from the momentum. As Harding tilted forward on his seat, yelling with surprise, Isabella moved fast – twisting and grabbing the vicar's left arm and yanked it towards her left, unbalancing him further, whilst the pistol in his right arm struggled to find its target. The shot that resounded instead shattered the window. Isabella then proceeded to sink her teeth into Harding's left wrist.

Harding screamed and felt the teeth leaving his flesh only after he had dropped his weapon. He struggled, but Isabella was not as puny as he had thought. He was unable to break free.

"Madam von Took…!?" Gustav called out.

"I have the reverend under control now, Gustav!" Isabella yelled back. "Drive on!"

"Yes, mistress."

With a crack of the whip, the carriage trundled onwards again. Harding found himself at the mercy of a short blade that Isabella had pulled out from a knife sheath tied to her leg, underneath her long black dress.

" 'Never trust a woman…', my father told me," Harding seethed. "Not even my mother."

"What a lovely upbringing and charmed adult life you must have had," Isabella scoffed. "Now, sit there and behave yourself! Do _not_ think that I will hesitate to use this blade against a man of God who has betrayed his township!"

The elder stared at her with a sour expression, but sat back in his seat whilst the coach rocked slightly in its ongoing journey. The pistol remained on the floor to one side. Isabella was not prepared to risk picking it up. In the absence of conversation, she heard only the occasional cracking of Gustav's whip, the snorting of the horses, the steady pace of the wheels, and the rattling of the coach. Isabella silently wished that they were already within the comforting surroundings of Hanbrook Manor, where she could confess her sins to Josette by the fire, and decide what had to be done – once the crisis was over…

The coach rounded a bend in the road. Isabella breathed a sigh of relief. They were now descending a gradual slope that led to a shallow ford. The manor was just beyond the trees on the other side of the stream.

Upon returning her gaze to Harding, Isabella smirked. Eyes closed, the reverend was silently mouthing something to himself. Praying to his God, no doubt. Still, she had learnt the knack of lip-reading years ago from a female friend. It had proved invaluable for learning the secrets of her husband and past servants.

Isabella's brow deepened as she frowned. The reverend seemed to be pleading to be aided from afar. To be rescued, in fact…

She raised her knife, and rested the tip on Harding's cheek, making him stop as he shot his eyes open. "What are you doing? That was no prayer!" she snapped at him.

Harding said nothing, but glared daggers at her.

"I asked what were y-?"

The window on her left provided the answer. But through it, she only glimpsed the incoming shadow in the moment before it emerged from the surrounding darkness - and promptly struck the roof of the coach…

Gustav gave a wailing scream that hinted to Isabella's shocked senses that something airborne had snatched him away. And as she instinctively turned round and cried out for her footman, Harding seized her right wrist and punched her in the face with his other hand.

Yelling, Isabella pushed back with all her might, as the two of them fought for possession of the knife. In the meantime, the horses had bolted. They were hurtling out of control, terrified by whatever had seized Gustav – and now all of them were racing towards the ford…

The crash came moments later, jolting both of the passengers. The carriage toppled over into the stream as a wheel broke off. The horses, now anchored to the spot by the wrecked, tilted carriage, screamed as the hanging shadow returned, flapping its wings…

Moments passed as the ripples in the stream dispersed in the gloom. The carriage door was unlocked before being kicked open. Now twisting herself upright again, Isabella von Took pulled herself out of the wrecked coach with an effort, blood trickling from a gash to her forehead whilst other parts of her body throbbed from the bruises she had just received in the fight and subsequent crash. She rasped, and struggled to get her breath under control in her mounting terror. The padded jacket she had earlier bought from the Blacksmiths on her first visit there had now been cut in several places by Harding's energetic attempts to stab her in the chest. The garment had saved her life, but it had been ruined in the process.

Behind her, slumped against the other door, Harding groaned as he tried to move. Isabella had retrieved the pistol and her dropped knife – both of them now tucked behind the belt of her traveling cloak. She could turn round now and shoot Harding dead – but Isabella wanted to save her next, just-loaded bullet for whatever had struck the coach.

She turned to face the horses, and screamed at what had just become of one of them. The Gargoyle was on top of it, having just apparently drained the life from the poor creature via its taloned hand, going by the evidence of her eyes. It was now a wizened husk. Meanwhile, the second horse was already dead – its neck lying at an angle that suggested it had died at the point of impact.

Before Isabella could fire her pistol, the Gargoyle had bounded from the horse and landed on the uppermost side of the coach. It moved with speed and energy, having apparently fed from the life energy of the horse, Isabella guessed. And in the next instant, it laid its taloned hand upon her left shoulder, where her dress fabric had been torn by Harding in their struggle. The Gargoyle's claws glowed blue…

Isabella screamed again as searing pain lanced through her.

" _I Am Recovered! Now I Claim You As One Of My Own, Human Female…,"_ the Gargoyle telepathic voice's stabbed into Isabella's mind.

"N…no… No!" she shrieked, twisting her body round with an effort and pulling out her pistol again with her right hand. Unable to raise the weapon to shoot the monster assaulting her, Isabella instead fired wildly into the carriage below her.

The shot missed the wailing Harding, but shattered the window instead.

"Help! Gargoyle! The water from the stream… It's coming in here!" the reverend hollered. "Don't let me drown!"

" _You Pathetic, Whining Mortal! Very well… You May Yet Be Of Use To Me…"_

The fiend hissed. Briefly grabbing hold of Isabella with both taloned hands now, it yanked her out of the coach and tossed her aside. With a yelp, she flew in an arc and landed in an undignified heap on the far side of the stream – coming to rest as she rolled over on her other shoulder.

Isabella groaned, and allowed her swimming vision to settle, before fear pushed her on to rise to her feet, gasping. As she did so, the coach's lantern – still on its hook at the front of the partly-submerged carriage – casted enough light for the noblewoman to see the Gargoyle tearing out the side of the coach with its muscular arms, in order to widen the entrance for its winged bulk before rescuing Harding from drowning. In the meanwhile, Isabella saw a shape become dislodged from some stones in the stream, and it proceeded to drift past the back of the coach. The lantern light captured the shape for a moment – long enough for her to identify the husk as the remains of Gustav…

Isabella stifled her scream in time, turning it into a loud sob. She forced herself to clear her head and check herself over. The pistol had been lost in her unexpected toss into the air, but her knife was still tucked in place. But that was not enough to take on the Gargoyle. It had evidently…fed…on Gustav and the now equally-wizened horse – and her shoulder hurt badly from where the beast had gripped her. Fighting was not feasible. Therefore…

"Forgive me, Gustav…," Isabella croaked. Then she turned and half-ran, half-stumbled away – fleeing towards the now just-visible, distant lights of Hanbrook Manor whilst the Gargoyle was preoccupied with saving its human lackey…

For how long the noblewoman tried to get away, she could not tell. Instead of sticking to the road, Isabella fled into the nearest thicket of trees and bushes – desperate to find some sort of cover where the Gargoyle could not reach her without cutting or tearing down the branches and foliage. Behind her, the night air carried the crack of a gunshot, followed shortly by another. Next, there was the pounding of wings and the return of the dark shadow overhead. Isabella stifled her scream and squeezed herself between two sturdy trees, hoping that she would not be found…

Another minute passed. A breeze sprung up, blowing from the north west. Isabella was sweating and losing body heat. She wondered how long she could cope in the dark if she failed to reach the manor. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her rapid breathing – only to be assailed by her memories of seeing Heidi being ripped apart, as well as the image of Gustav's husk floating downstream…

Someone was shouting now. But Isabella did not know if it was in her mind or not. She felt like giving up. It would be relief to pass out – but the throbbing pain in her shoulder denied her that luxury.

She shot her eyes open as her hand was touched. Screaming, Isabella lashed out wildly. Moments later, someone had slammed her against a tree and was yelling at her.

"…us! Madam von Took, calm yourself! It is only us!"

Gradually, her breathing became steadier. Her wits returned to her. Isabella took in Inspector Jonathan Cooke, who was holding her tightly. Close by, Anne Marie was holding a lantern in one hand – with a pistol in her other. Both of them looked tired and worn out by the trials of the night so far. Cooke had been treated for wounds.

"The Gargoyle! It was here. It attacked me and Gustav…," Isabella blurted.

"We realized where you were headed - and we arrived on our 'orses in time, to see you being knocked aside, so to speak," Anne Marie declared. "Then, when we shot at the Gargoyle, it pulled out 'arding from the carriage and took to ze air with him!"

"Tell us what happened, Isabella," Cooke urged the traumatized woman, using her first name to reassure her.

It took a few false starts, as Isabella stuttered and rambled. But she made sure to tell them the whole story, and honestly. She trembled in Cooke's arms. "As a re-result of my co-cowardice…and self-importance, both Hei-Heidi and Gustav…are dead…," she whimpered.

"Maybe. But we can do nothing for them right now," Cooke pointed out. "What about you? You were injured?"

Isabella nodded. "My shoulder…"

Cooke gestured for Anne Marie to approach with the lantern. Under its light, the Inspector examined the torn fabric of Isabella's clothes – and he gingerly felt the skin underneath…

Cooke drew in his breath, and slowly released it. "Madam von Took… Your shoulder. The skin has turned both gray and very hard, and the discoloration is slowly spreading. It is as if your flesh is…turning to stone!"

Isabella's heart missed a beat. She pressed her gloved hand against her shoulder, and her prodding confirmed Cooke's words. Fear clawed at her. "No… No…," she breathed. "We must get to the manor! Harding wanted to interrogate Lady Hanbrook. That crazed man believes she - or Lord Hanbrook - killed his father…! Wh-what is it?" Isabella asked, seeing the look pass between Cook and Anne Marie.

"Ze Gargoyle… It was carrying 'arding in its arms," Anne Marie answered. "When they escaped from us, they flew towards ze manor."

"We should get you to see a doctor, Madam von Took," Cooke told her. "By good fortune one of my medical friends is in Shadowbrook. Miss Piaget can escort you back on our horses – whilst I go on to…"

"No! Josette… Lady Hanbrook, I mean. If she is in danger, I must help her!" Isabella pleaded. "I failed Heidi and Gustav. I will _not_ fail my old friend."

Cooke and Anne Marie exchanged another meaningful glance. Then the Inspector nodded.

"Very well. We have some weapons with us – and we will have some strength, honor, cunning and spirit to our credit. We must confront Reverend Harding and this Gargoyle…and do what must be done."

Isabella's eyes flicked across to Anne Marie. "Mr Danforth is not with you now?"

"Non, Isabella," Anne Marie replied. "He is recovering from his injuries from ze Living Statues that diverted our attention at ze Blacksmiths, allowing you to escape."

"And…your sergeant, Inspector? Where is he?" Isabella dared to ask.

He bowed his head. "In the makeshift mortuary at the Doctor's surgery."

Isabella paled in understanding. "I…I am sorry to hear that."

Cooke's eyes were hard. "The being that killed him is dead – and the citizen's militia have found his master, also deceased, on the riverbank at the marsh." He raised his pistol. "Now we should turn our attention to our other enemies. Before darkness engulfs us all!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Windmill:**

Karl Harrison considered his options as he tried to reign in his fear of being eaten by his captors. The female Grotesque that had been appointed as his guard by the Gargoyle seemed more concerned about protecting her unhatched brood – though Karl had no doubt that she would soon intervene if he tried to leave the windmill. Peeping outside through the doorway, he stirred as he saw the Grotesques finish their mating and preening – only for one of them to flap its wings and take off, heading into the still-dark skies. The other curled up outside, watching the entrance to the windmill.

 _In case I try to escape…_ , Karl thought ruefully. _And where was the other heading? Was it out hunting, for food?_

Through the gap of the broken doorway, he felt the wind pick up. Clouds were now racing across the moon. Karl thought of Lucy and Harlow – asking himself where they would be now. What would they do, once they had their own fill of hunted prey? Was he even going to live long enough to see them again? He had examined his lower leg, below the knee. It was gray and heavy – like the inflictions that Thomas and Lucy had been cursed with. But with him, the curse did not seem to be spreading – leading him to conclude that he had received just a light dose of the Gargoyle's Stone Touch. He had to use that to his advantage, despite how stiff his leg was to drag around. Doing nothing was not an option.

The wind tugged at the sails of the windmill, higher up. But something rattled against them – something that was apparently holding them in place…

He straightened himself up and carefully eased himself onto his feet. An idea started to form in Karl's mind. He only hoped that it would work.

The ex-soldier carefully climbed up the ladder to the next floor. It was not easy. Besides trying to leave and lifting his heavy leg without disturbing the slumbering Grotesque, Karl was climbing using one hand only – using the other to hold the handle of the lantern, which he had covered up enough to keep the light low. Then he pushed himself onwards to climb the next ladder also. Once he had reached the dust floor level, gasping from his exertions, Karl located the mechanism that allowed for the turning of the sails. Gathering his strength and gritting his teeth, Karl crawled along the wooden floor, using the dim light from the lantern to guide him. Then, rising upon his knees, he used both hands to pull out the rod that had been used to jam the brake wheel.

The mechanism creaked and began to move, gradually picking up a slow, but constant speed. Karl allowed himself to smile before carefully descending again to the bin floor and dragging himself back to the top of the first ladder. Then, opening the shutters wide on the lantern, he took a deep breath to steady himself. Lifting the lantern with both hands, Karl took careful aim, and threw it into the insulating hay that formed the bedding to the Grotesque mother's nest…

The ear-splitting 'crash', and the flames that broke out, soon had the female Grotesque screaming. With its body alight, the creature tried to flex its wings in order to put out the fire licking away at the large eggs – its maternal instincts focused on them rather than its own self-preservation, at first. Then, unable to endure the agony, the minion rolled itself over on the floor. But nothing was working. Instead, the beating of its wings had fanned the fire, encouraging it to spread and preventing the weakened creature from rescuing its unborn young.

Karl remained at the top of the ladder. He watched to stay long enough to satisfy himself that the Grotesque and the eggs would not survive. But even as the eggs unexpectedly exploded and the young withered and died within moments, the mother raised her head to the ceiling and roared at Karl. Its wings still aflame, the Grotesque began to climb the ladder towards him – murder in its eyes…

Karl gulped, and got up to make again for the dust floor – and the roof beyond.

 _Time to leave…!_

Before he could exit the bin floor level that he was on, Karl was attacked by the furious Grotesque as it squeezed itself through the gap around the top of the stepladder. With no weapons on him to keep it at bay, and with an Stone Touch-inflicted leg, Karl acted as quickly and as best as he could, as he kept the metal drive wheel mechanism for the mill machinery in between the minion and himself. Eventually, he tricked the Grotesque – who was restricted for space – into lunging for him. Then it screamed as it found its burning wing caught up in the ever-turning cogs. Panicking, the fiend tried to free its crushed wing as it was dragged further into the wheel.

And now the fire from its wing, brought up from below, was spreading to the fittings of this level – whilst the floor below was gradually turning into an inferno…

Karl smiled at the creature's fate and waved goodbye – before he turned away and limped onwards as he slowly climbed the ladder to the dust floor again and sought the hatch to the roof. He soon found it, broken down from the outside.

 _So the Gargoyle and its creatures had come through the gap earlier…_

Karl's pained red face was grim by the time he managed to pull himself onto the roof, gasping as he breathed in deep gulps of thankfully-cooler, fresher air. Wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his jacket sleeve, he looked down.

He spied the Grotesque that had remained on the ground to act as the door sentry. It was now screeching its anger. Its burning eyes reflected the blaze that was engulfing the wooden structure. It flapped its bat-like wings in agitation and then glimpsed Karl. The ex-soldier had now edged along the rim of the domed roof, in order to grab hold of the slowly-turning sail that was now edging closer. It was his chance to descend to freedom. Before the fire either threatened to spread to the side of the windmill where the sails where – or before the structure collapsed into itself and took Karl with it…

And even if he managed to hold onto the sail and reach the ground, Karl had the Grotesque below him to contend with. Without any weapons of his own. The Gargoyle and its minions had seen to that.

"I don't have any choice…," he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath to steady his frayed nerves, Karl carefully grabbed hold of the sail with both hands as it reached his position – and forced himself to hold on tight, even as he started to slip from the combination of heat and sweat…

He dropped down the remaining few feet onto the grass and rolled aside, when the sail turned far enough. His tired body tumbled down the slight incline, and crashed into the nearest tree. He wanted to get away from the windmill as fast as possible. The structure was well and truly ablaze now. Even as he gazed in awe at the results of his handiwork, Karl heard the death cries of the Grotesque that he had trapped inside.

He turned to face the Grotesque that had now torn its screaming face away from the inferno, towards him. It bounded forward and raised a taloned paw – ready to strike him down and shred his flesh…

Then the howling began.

Racing past the nearby miller's house, the two man-sized wolves and the pack of stooped Feral Kin sprinted towards the Grotesque, catching it by surprise. One of the four-legged wolves positioned itself just in front of Karl, snarling at the winged horror – whilst the others leapt at the Gargoyle's minion, slashing and tearing into it with their fangs and claws. One of the Feral Kin was sent flying into the blazing windmill, where it caught fire and soon perished. But the collective attack was too much for the Grotesque – and it fell onto its side, wounded, but still kicking and swiping at the man-beasts that were wearing it down. Its death would soon follow.

Then, as Karl tried to pull himself up against the tree trunk, panting for breath, he spied the other Grotesque gliding in out of the pre-dawn night – returning from its hunt. A slain adult pig hung down from its clawed feet. Screaming at the sight of its mate being killed by the Feral Kin, the Grotesque dropped the dead pig - knocking aside one of the Feral Kin in the process – and wheeled in, to attack the former humans, whilst keeping airborne. In response, the werewolf amongst the Feral Kin pack snarled and snapped orders at them in lupine growls, co-coordinating them to move and make themselves hard to hit. They did so.

Arrested by the fighting, Karl's attention was diverted by the trembling of the ground. He shot his eyes to the wolf that was acting as his guard. It – no, _she_ \- had detected the tremors also. She howled a warning to the other lupines.

The ground at the base of the windmill suddenly burst outwards, as if an explosion had occurred just below the soil. Withering tentacles – as thick as a man's arm - whipped into the heated air surrounding the fire, and the beast in the cellar strained to free itself from the hole it had punched into the surface above it. It gave a shrill cry – a scream of agony. Evidently, the fire he had started had reached into the cellar, Karl reasoned to himself.

With the wolf amongst them howling a retreat, the Feral Kin managed to roll aside from the frenzied snatches of the octopus-like creature. But the Grotesque was ensnared by a tentacle wrapping itself around its foot. Screeching its rage, the two beings fought a bizarre tug-of-war – with the Grotesque trying to free itself as it sliced into the tentacle with its claws; and the beast from the cellar still trying to pull itself out of the ground, whilst seeking its fury against anything it could in its plight...

"Get back! The windmill…!" Karl yelled to the werewolves and the Feral Kin. They saw the danger, yelped, and dropped to all fours in order to run away to safety in time. The windmill, now a blazing-hot inferno, broke up close to where the demon had undermined its foundations - and it collapsed onto the last Grotesque and the tentacled horror, scattering burning wood and metal parts onto them both. Within moments, the creatures – or their crushed bodies – were overtaken by the flames and the fumes. Another wail reached their ears, too, as the Living Statue sentry was also destroyed in the devastation.

The she-wolf in front of Karl whined, taking a few paces back from the heat of the wreckage. She turned to Karl and sniffed at him. Then she repeatedly tapped the ground with a forepaw.

Karl's mind sharpened. This was a display of human intellect…

"Lucy…," he breathed.

One of the Feral Kin was drooling and growling as he drew closer to them. Hungry for human flesh.

The Lucy-wolf snapped her head round and snarled, exposing her fangs. Her body tense and erect. Whining, the Feral Kin bowed and backed off. At a snarl from the other four-legged wolf, the minion skulked over to the dropped pig and joined his pack members in the feast.

Minutes later, with their hunger appeased, the Feral Kin pack approached Karl once more. The Lucy-wolf watched them, and then she nuzzled and licked Karl's face, before issuing a warning growl to them. The message was clear. _This human is under my protection. If you harm him, you will suffer the consequences…_

Shaking, Karl reached out and stroked the fur behind her ears. Fur that shone titian in the flames of the wrecked windmill. Lucy grinned and rubbed her dark nose against Karl's beard. Then she pulled back, and sniffed at his leg. She whined.

"Perceptive as always, Lucy," Karl sighed. He showed her the gray flesh of his calf underneath his torn pants leg. "I now have the Stone Touch, alas."

Then the other wolf shifted form with a stretching and twisting and crunching of skin, tissue, and bone. The creature became more humanoid. Intelligent yellow eyes regarded Karl.

"Harlow Morgan," Karl spoke first, nodding. "Thank you for seeing my message conveyed by the movement of the windmill's sails. Thank you all for rescuing me." He gazed into Lucy's golden eyes.

"You are…welcome, Mr…Harrison. We need…to work…together," Harlow growled, barking out his words as best as he could. He gestured to the Feral Kin with a half-paw. "Lucy and I…now command all…that remains…of them…, as you see."

"What of Major Bruckner?" Karl asked.

"Lucy and I…ended his…reign of terror. His sister…, the Shadow Witch…, had possessed him. She has gone…for now."

"I am very glad to hear it… And the Gargoyle? It left me here, after inflicting me with its Stone Touch... I am cursed! I need a doctor. Or maybe... Maybe the death of the Gargoyle will undo its foul magik."

"I do…not know where…the Gargoyle is…" Harlow loped closer and sniffed at Karl's leg. "I am sorry…for your condition…, sir." He looked thoughtful, and then declared, "There is…a third possibility. You could…join Lucy and me…"

Lucy's head shot up, and her body became rigid - evidently understanding the conversation and its implications all too well. Her gaze alternated between Harlow and Karl. She whined.

Karl took a deep breath, and slowly released it. "Let us…not take _that_ course of action just yet. Lucy clearly seems uncertain about it. So, since I suspect that the Gargoyle is still alive, I proposed that we work as a team and track it down. Then end the evil it has brought upon this township! What say you all?"

Harlow tilted his head, considering Karl's words. "I have…no objection. But the Feral Kin…they cannot become…human again. I sense that… Their lives…are now…my responsibility. As is Lucy's… I need to…protect them…from the humans…who would hate…and hunt them down…"

"Then I would urge you to do what you must, Harlow Morgan," Karl considered, nodding. "Take the Feral Kin somewhere remote, where they and humans will not clash and harm each other. His eyes flicked to Lucy. "As for you, Lucy – perhaps it would be best for you to leave this township and go with Harlow and this pack…"

Lucy eyes widened, and she pawed at Karl's arm – conveyed her agitation. She did not want to leave him…

Karl sighed. He was one of the few friends Lucy had made – and now she had the loyalty of a wolf. And all this was assuming that they would have a future beyond the showdown with the Gargoyle that would come in good time…

One of the Feral Kin suddenly howled and pointed into the air with her half-paw. It was a young female, Karl noted. She must have been a girl before Bruckner and the Shadow Witch had warped her into the wolf-like creature that she would be for the rest of her life. Turning to seek the source of her concern, Karl, Lucy, Harlow, and the rest of the Feral Kin saw the bonfire flare into life on the western horizon. It was surely somewhere near to…

Lucy stood to attention on her four paws, a low growl issuing from her throat.

"It's at the manor! And there's another Grotesque in the sky close by." Karl gasped. "But what…?"

"My suggestion to…Lord and Lady…Hanbrook! To light…a beacon…in time…of emergencies!" Harlow growled. He glanced at Lucy. "She will go there… With…, or without, us… To defend her parents."

"The people who acted as her parents, anyway," Karl interjected.

"That…matter again…"

"Long story…" Karl eased himself off the tree. "Do what you wish to do, Mr Morgan. But I'm going with Lucy!"

"You have…no weapons."

"I will improvise. It's what I do."

"These roads…aren't safe. We saw…that Grotesque…just now…in the air. It is circling. It will see…you approach." Harlow huffed and looked meaningfully at his newly-gained pack. Then he growled. "We are coming…with you both!"

"Thank you, Mr Morgan. Then we will go together! I sense that we will find the Gargoyle at the manor…," Karl answered grimly.

"Yyour…lleg," Lucy growled at Karl.

Karl hesitated as he caught her meaning. How was he going to get to the manor, except slowly – thanks to his afflicted leg? Then he saw Lucy give a lupine grin, as she nudged her friend's hand with her nose.

Karl's eyes widened with surprise. Slowly, his lips formed a smile…

Minutes later, they were on the move, heading westwards as the pack reached the fields. Harlow led the way, running on all fours. The Feral Kin followed suit, forming a guard of honor of sorts around Lucy and Karl. Meanwhile, the ex-soldier was holding on tightly to the brownish-orange fur around Lucy's neck – praying that his werewolf friend would not collapse under his weight as she sprinted, keeping pace with the pack, her paws slamming into the smooth earth of the path, with Karl as her passenger.

At the fields, they came across the Living Statue of the miller, Mr Forbes, who was slowly advancing towards the manor.

 _That explains why he never showed up whilst we were at the windmill,_ Karl considered. _The Gargoyle claimed him at some point._

Upon their approach, Forbes turned around to regard them with glowing white eyes, and he lifted his arms – ready to snap the neck of anything that he could grasp. Instead, Harlow snarled and slammed into the Living Statue, knocking it over. Seconds later, Lucy jumped upon the animated statue – and the combined weight of herself and Karl was enough to 'crack' the stone neck, destroying the threat. Seeing the glow disappear from the eyes of the statue, its expression now permanently frozen with shock – Lucy carried on, gathering speed with her run. She felt charged with energy under the light of the full moon, not yet feeling the strain of Karl's weight. Instead, she felt joyful to be reunited with him. Now her mind was turned to the task of saving the couple who had acted as her parents – wanting to know who, if either of them, were truly the ones who had brought her into the world…

And so the pack raced on towards Hanbrook Manor – with the first rays of the pre-light dawn chasing after them, as their appointment with fate drew nearer…


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty:**

 **Hold Back The Darkness**

 **The Manor:**

Despite the fact that dawn was about half an hour away, Inspector Cooke, Isabella, and Anne Marie soon saw for themselves that Hanbrook Manor was not exactly sleepy. Firstly, the grounds keeper – the wiry-looking, white-haired Aenglis Devlin – was tending to the roaring bonfire on the lawn next to the driveway. It was the beacon warning that Harlow Morgan had suggested to Lord and Lady Hanbrook.

As his little party arrived at the manor, they dismounted and handed the horses over to an approaching groom. With Anne Marie escorting the still-distraught Isabella to the main door, Cooke ran over to the groundskeeper, to find out the cause of the alarm.

"Lady Hanbrook gave the order for the beacon, mister," Devlin answered in an accent that was vaguely similar to Sophie the midwife. Irish ancestry. Or so Cooke thought. There was also some of the Scottish dialect present, as well. "Don't know why. Seen no trouble, meself."

"I see… And Lady Hanbrook gave you the order herself? How did she se-?"

"No, mister. That black maid, Delani, conveyed the order to me. The butler's still in his bed, recoverin' after the flood of rats we 'ad yesterday. So is Selena. Not in the _same_ bed, mind!" Devlin cackled, his thumb rubbing at his white moustache. He returned his attention to keeping the bonfire burning.

"Yes… Well… Thank you." Cooke turned away with a whiff of disgust for the groundskeeper, and rejoined the ladies – who had already pulled on the bell cord. He took in Isabella's pained expression. "What is it?" he asked her.

"The stiffness from my shoulder… It is slowly spreading," Isabella replied, her voice barely-composed.

Before anything else could be said, Delani opened the front door and admitted them. Her bland, neutral expression did not change, even when the agitated Isabella demanded to speak to Lady Hanbrook immediately.

"She is presently in the dining room," Delani answered in her educated, rich-sounding voice. "I will take you to her."

"One moment, Miss Delani! Has the Reverend Harding arrived recently?" Cooke put to her.

"Not to my knowledge, sir. Come. This way…"

As they walked through the entrance hallway, Anne Marie considered the lantern that was still in her hand. She closed the shutters almost to, given the candlelight around them. But she frowned and held onto it. Some instinct was stirring in her – warning of danger…

Once the group was in the candlelit dining room, Delani closed the door behind them.

Belatedly, Cooke realized that the maid had opened the door without knocking first.

Isabella gave a cry of alarm. A distressed-looking Lady Hanbrook, attired in her nightgown, was sat in a chair next to the far end of the long mahogany table. Standing up from the seat normally taken by Lord Hanbrook was the Reverend Harding. He swiftly grabbed hold of her ladyship's dark locks and pressed the blade of the knife in his right hand against the skin of her throat.

Immediately, Cooke drew out his loaded pistol. He was about to take it off the safety setting as he aimed, when Harding's sharp voice rang out like a whip crack.

"Yield, Inspector! Or she dies!"

The frightened look on Lady Hanbrook's face made him pause – as did her tears. Isabella firmly forced Cooke's gun arm down, as she shook her head, not daring to risk the life of her friend. Especially not so soon after the lost of her retinue.

Cooke spun round to face the maid. But Delani was now aiming a pistol of her own at him, Isabella, and Anne Marie. But her expression was blank. Joyless.

He drew in a deep breath, cursing himself for being a fool. "What is the meaning of this, Delani?" he snapped at her.

She did not answer. Instead, her free hand gestured for him to hand over his pistol – which he reluctantly did. Now Delani held both barrels in their direction, watching carefully for any signs of resistance.

"Mesmerism…," Isabella breathed. "I have seen this demonstrated before." She stiffly turned round to face Harding. "Release her from your spell, you fallen man of God!" she yelled.

He gave a dry bark of a laugh. " 'Tis a power that the Gargoyle has shared with me in its wisdom. Delani will serve our purposes for as long as necessary."

"And where is your 'ideous ally?" Anne Marie piped up.

"All in good time… Ahh! Lord Hanbrook. How good of you to answer _my_ summons!" Harding gave a cold smile.

Lord Hanbrook had just entered the dining room by himself, halting in his stride only when he saw his wife being threatened. Then he glanced round, and saw that he and the guests being threatened by the two pistols in Delani's hands. "What the devil!? Delani? Harding? What is going on here? I demand an explanation!"

"Sit down! All of you," Harding yelled at them. A cheek muscle twitched on his face, and Cooke's tension levels rose, as he realized what they were dealing with. An unhinged man.

"Better do as he asks, sir," he advised Lord Hanbrook. "He has Delani acting as his mesmerized slave. Do not blame her for this."

The lord of the manor looked uncertain, bewildered even. But he took the nearest seat at the table – and so too did the three others.

"I am sorry George. I confessed our secret to Elijah," Lady Hanbrook declared, sniffling. "I told him that you killed Elijah's father."

Anne Marie and Isabella gasped.

Cooke saw a flash of astonishment on Lord Hanbrook's face – followed by anger, and then a slow nod. The Inspector frowned, wondering…

"Let me explain the current situation," Harding began. "For years I had suspected that my beloved father did not pass away from illness, as Doctor Manning had declared – but that he had been poisoned. And now, _finally_ , twenty years after his death, I have a confession. And you will now pay the price, George Hanbrook…"

"And why was he killed?" Anne Marie raised her gaze from the table. "Because, despite being the previous reverend, he 'ad raped Lady Hanbrook. He was the real father of Lucy Hanbrook!"

Lord Hanbrook opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. He started to tremble. "How…? How could you say that, Miss Piaget?"

The schoolmistress shook her head. "No time to explain, sir. But it is true. Non?"

His lordship bowed his head in shame – and then raised it again, facing Harding, as his temper rose. "When I discovered that Josette here was pregnant, I wanted to throttle Harding Senior – but my wife persuaded me to take no action against him. But later, after Lucy's birth – when we forbade him from seeing her, even christening her, your _wretched_ father threatened to expose my wife's affair, Elijah. He wanted to be paid for his silence. And we did pay him, at first. Only he wasted half his money on drink. And when we asked him to use his money for the community instead of on himself, he demanded more money from us. That is why I poisoned him! He had become too much of a law unto himself. He was certainly no man of God."

"Like father, like son," Isabella muttered tersely, placing the tips of her steeped fingers together. "So now that we know, what happens now, Reverend Harding? Are you really going to murder Lord Hanbrook in front of us witnesses?"

"Oh yes, Madam von Took. His lordship will pay for his sins against my father. Only now that I have the answers that I have long sought, _all_ of you will now be judged!"

"All of us…?" Anne Marie whimpered.

Cooke's expression was grim. "Harding does not want us witnesses to see the sunrise!" he warned her. He glanced at Harding, who had just closed his eyes and was muttering.

Isabella bolted up from her seat, knocking the chair over. "He's summoning the Ga-!"

The unlit fireplace suddenly exploded. The dislodged stones were flung in various directions, just missing the nearest people seated at the table – namely Anne Marie and Inspector Cooke. As the debris and cloud of ash settled, a roar rang over Lady Hanbrook's scream.

The Gargoyle flexed and unfurled its wings as it regarded the humans present with distain. It stepped out from the fireplace.

Cooke shuddered and gulped. But then he rose from his chair to face Harding. "Very…clever of you, reverend. You somehow got your fiend to enter the house by coming down the right chimney, wide as the shutes are…"

"Their minds are linked," Isabella pointed out.

"Thank you, Isabella. But you are no creature of God's design, Gargoyle. Despite what the deluded reverend here may believe. So how did you get into our world?"

" _I Escaped Those Who Created And Wanted To Control Me…"_

"Escaped? From who?" Cooke pressed it.

" _Silence! You And The Female Next To You Serve No Purpose To Me, Except To Now Feed My Winged Creations!"_

"Your…Grotesques…? You still have some left?" Cooke's face turned deadly pale.

The Gargoyle gave a leering grin. It glanced at Delani. _"The Dark-Skinned Female Here Has Been Under My Power For The Past Couple Of Days. She Has Acted As A Useful Caretaker Of My…Grotesques…When Some Of Them, On My Mental Command, Took Up Residence Here During The Night. The Shadow Witch Tried To Have Them Flushed Out With Her Summoned Rats – But Failed, Thanks To The Intervention Of The Females Who Arrived With You…"_

"Grotesques! In our home!?" Lady Hanbrook's shrill voice carried across the dining room. "Where could they have possibly have hidden…?"

"Of course…" Cooke snapped his fingers. "The derelict wing! Where Delani's quarters are situated."

Anne Marie pointed towards the full-length windows, her expression thunderstruck. "And here zey come!" she yelled out.

The gathered party turned to face the windows, where – by the torchlight on the exterior walls – they could all see the Grotesques bursting out of the hole in the roof of the derelict wing. Flapping their wings, the minions dived towards the dining room in response to their creator's silent summons. And, even as their prey moved to flee from the windows, the horrors smashed through the glass panes, eager to feast on the food that had just been promised to them by the Gargoyle…

Amongst the screams of the hostages, Harding laughed. Like a madman.

"Now the minions of God's messenger will deliver judgment upon you all!" he cried out.

Turning to his nearest ally, Cooke grabbed hold of Anne Marie's hand, gaining her attention as they stood together. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards the still-impassive Delani. The schoolteacher nodded as Cooke took several steps towards the maid, making it look as though his attention was on the Grotesques, who were shaking off the glass fragments as they rose from their crouched landing positions, their slavering maws dribbling as they prepared for the kill…

"Now!" Cooke yelled.

Anne Marie sprinted towards Delani. As the maid turned to face the teacher, Cooke jumped at her from his angle. He managed to slam into Delani's shoulder and send her first bullet off course. Instead of claiming a life, it nicked Anne Marie's shoulder. She cried out, but forced herself on – helping the Inspector to subdue the black maid – as his punch caught her on the chin. Delani's head snapped back and slammed into the wood paneling of the door behind her.

With a grunt, she slid down the door and flopped onto the carpet.

"Sorry," Cooke declared as he scooped up the dropped pistols and quickly passed the unfired one to Anne Marie, whilst he hurriedly pulled out the remaining pieces of shot from the pouch hanging from the unconscious maid's belt. Then he proceeded to reload the pistol in his hand, as he knelt down.

More screams – as well as cries and gunfire – rang out, making the Inspector snap his head up. The Grotesques nearest to the shattered windows were being fired at and struck by bullets. Cooke caught glimpses of Magistrate Kroft barking orders to the militia he had evidently brought with him – following in Lord Hanbrook's wake. Also present was the militia guard, Ben Summersby.

Straightening up with the now-loaded pistol, Cooke took in the frantic, chaotic scene unfolding before his sweat-stinging eyes. Anne Marie had fired at the nearest Grotesque, wounding it – before throwing the gun at another of the winged fiends. In her desperation, the schoolteacher was now reaching for a bible that someone – Harding? – had left on the dining table. In the next moment, she was swinging it in both hands – deflecting a taloned swipe at her, before she bashed the head of the nearest Grotesque with the bible. The minion gave a shrill cry as it stumbled backwards into a chair, before consequently falling over and striking its skull on the edge of the mahogany table. It collapsed onto the carpet with a cracked head, oozing gray blood – and it did not rise again.

A muffled scream made Cooke spin round. His eyes widened with horror. The Gargoyle had seized Isabella, and pulled her towards it. With one clawed hand around her mouth, the other hand of the villain was clamped around the noblewoman's hip, and glowing with blue light as the Gargoyle turned Isabella and itself away from the fighting…

"No! Release her! Now, dammitt!" Cooke roared at their adversary.

"Move out of ze way!" Anne Marie pleaded to him. She grabbed hold of her lantern from the side of the dining room where she had placed it, and flung it at the back of the Gargoyle. The lantern broke apart, the oil sloshed out and the flames began to lick at the bat-like wings. On sudden inspiration, Cooke stepped closer to the Gargoyle and fired. The spark from his pistol and bullet caused the flames to flare brighter and longer.

" _Aaaggghhh!"_

With an unearthly shriek, the Gargoyle arched its back and convulsed from the tongues of fire burning its wing membranes. Isabella wasted no time and pulled herself away from her assailant's loosened grip. She stumbled and fell against the nearest cabinet, feeling herself to be smothered by her own agony…

With fingers of flame threatening to lengthen into pillars, the Gargoyle staggered from the dining room, crashing through the double doors that led into the ballroom. There, it rolled over on the empty wooden floor in an attempt to put out the fires that were eating away at its wings. Meanwhile, the Grotesques that were still standing in the dining room gave a screech of alarm. Forgetting their resisting prey, the minions instinctively acted on their first instinct – to protect their maker at all costs. They rushed into the ballroom and formed a protective ring around it as they faced outwards, uncertain how else to help their creator.

Cooke watched the spectacle with horrified fascination – then his attention was drawn to the other fighters. Two of the Grotesques had already jumped outside to attack Kroft and the militia – and even now one young soldier screamed as he was cut open by a vicious slash from the taloned hand of one of the creatures. And Cooke glimpsed Anne Marie, running in her long gray dress to the other end of the dining table, to grab hold of the wailing Lady Hanbrook whilst her husband and the Reverend Harding were fighting for control over the vengeful vicar's knife…

"No! I lied, Elijah!" her ladyship was now yelling to Harding. "George did NOT kill your heartless father. It was I!"

Cooke paused as he reloaded his pistol. It was as he suspected… Lord Hanbrook had been prepared to suffer Harding's wrath, in order to protect his wife. He must indeed love her dearly to do that…

"You lie… You are just trying to stop me in delivering God's judgment and justice!" Harding grunted as he tried to overcome the strength of the bulkier man grappling with him.

"Mademoiselle Piaget… Oh! You have our family bible! Hold it out to me, dear… I, Josette Hanbrook, swear to this confession before witnesses. I fatally poisoned the Reverend Joseph Harding – the man who made me pregnant with my precious Lucy…"

Harding froze, his expression thunderous. "No! You…wicked woman!"

"It is true!" George Hanbrook gasped out, his face reddening as he tried to force Harding's knife away from his chest. "And I have shielded Josette from the law, as her act – though cruel – had been necessary. Joseph Harding was a vile man – unfit to be Lucy's father! Not that he ever showed love to either my wife or Lucy, after he…violated…Josette! I married Josette to provide her with the security and home that she needed. And we changed the records of Lucy's birth, so that the public would not know Lucy had been conceived out of wedlock! Few people saw her when she was little – and none of the servants from those days are still here, apart from Hargreaves."

A whine distracted them all. The fighters looked across, to see Karl Harrison rolling off a man-sized, brownish-orange furred wolf that had jumped through the shattered window, just in time to hear the confessions of Lord and Lady Hanbrook.

Lady Hanbrook stared at Karl and the wolf in amazement – but her focus soon switched back to Harding. The Reverend had just managed to swipe away his lordship's leg with his own, leading to the bulkier man collapsing on the floor. The dropped knife was soon snatched up by his reverence.

He gave a roar of fury and dived towards Lady Hanbrook.

"Lucy – no! His knife. It's sil-," Karl cried out a warning.

Harding spun round to spy the Lucy-wolf lunching herself at him. He gave a yell of alarm, and ducked as he instinctively flung out his left arm to protect his face. The knife flashed in his right hand – and Lucy howled as she went down, her undercoat marred by a slick cut that oozed blood. Meanwhile, Harding gasped as he felt the claw marks to his left arm. Then - seeing Lady Hanbrook running out of the dining room with Anne Marie in hand, as they exited via the door leading into the hallway – the Reverend bolted after them, screaming blue murder as he held grimly onto his knife.

"Lord Hanbrook! Are you badly injured?" Cooke rushed over to help the elder.

"I am…well enough, Inspector," his lordship managed to gasp out, as he rose upon his knees with Cooke's assistance. He turned to address Karl, who was tending to the fallen wolf, quickly washing its wound with water from his bottle and rubbing in some healing salve. "What is going on here, Mr Harrison? You called out for my daughter – but where is she!? I thought she was still at the Doctor's surgery…"

Karl faced him as he stroked the back of the whimpering wolf. "This is Lucy, sir! I have just treated her for that wound by Harding's silver blade. And…and we both heard your confession that she is _not_ your daughter!"

The mention of the silver-inflicted wound, plus the size and gender of the wolf before him, made Cooke draw in a sharp breath. "She is…a werewolf?" he breathed.

"A newborn werewolf. Yes… But she seems to be gaining more self-control as this night unfolds," Karl replied. He faced Lord Hanbrook again. "Your _adopted_ daughter is an admirable lady, sir!"

His lordship gasped and his eyes turned moist. "My Lucy…! Oh, I am so sorry, my child. We tried to protect you from your mother's shame…" He trailed off. "My wife! I must stop Elijah! He has gone mad in his personal vendetta. I must hold back the darkness in him…!" Climbing to his feet, his lordship ran off in pursuit of the reverend. A moment later, Lucy bolted off after him on all fours, bounding into the hallway – her wound already healing as a result of her youth, Karl's care, and her werewolf blood.

"Lucy – stop!" Karl got up upon his feet – only to be stopped by Cooke laying his hand upon the ex-soldier's shoulder.

"I need your assistance, Mr Harrison. Right now," he declared.

"But Lucy will need me with her! She might yet hurt someone other than Harding, if I'm not there to calm her…"

"Blast it, man! I need you to help me destroy the Gar-"

Cooke broke off as the air rang out with the sudden shattering of glass – followed by howling. He grabbed Karl by the jacket and hurried over to the doorway, where one of the doors had been broken off its hinges by the Gargoyle in its flight. Now, Cooke and Karl paused, taking in the spectacle of the Gargoyle engaged in a frantic battle with a bipedal werewolf, whilst the Grotesques were fighting the Feral Kin. Already the wooden floorboards that had seen the more affluent of Shadowbrook and the surrounding area dancing on, only two nights ago, were now stained with the growing pools of both red and gray blood. The sprawled bodies of fighters on both sides lay unmoving amongst them.

Cooke's mind flashed back to when he and Katarina were at the Abandoned Keep. How the Feral Kin and the Sloan-statue there had been equally determined to kill them – and yet the two species of transformed humans had fought each other, as if battling for territory and the prey within it…

"My word… The wolf-creatures crashed through the full-length windows!" Cooke raised his pistol, unsure of what to shoot at first. Perhaps if he waited to see which side won the battle…

"Do _not_ shoot the Feral Kin or Mr Morgan, Inspector Cooke!" Karl urged him, placing his hand on Cooke's gun arm. "Bruckner is _dead_! The Feral Kin have a new alpha male – and he is here to aid us."

"Bruckner dead? _Harlow Morgan_ …is that wolf man!?" Cooke frowned.

"Yes," Karl confirmed.

"How…did they get past the militia outside?"

"When I got here with my lupine allies, it was apparently too much for Magistrate Kroft, after his being attacked by those Grotesques that went outside. He ran off, screaming – leaving Summersby to lead the other men…"

"What!? But I thought he had inner strength. So he told me himsel-"

"Apparently, underneath that veneer, he is also a coward. But then his horse did unseat him after being startled by my lupine friends." Karl gave a humorless smile. "Now, listen carefully, Inspector. My leg has been afflicted by the Gargoyle's Stone Touch, and so I cannot move quickly. If you will kindly give me your pistol and ammunition, then grab some knives from the kitchen…"

"I will do just that!" Cooke handed over his loaded pistol and remaining shot – and then dashed back through the dining room, in order to reach the door at the far end leading to the kitchens…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Upstairs, Reverend Harding raced along the landing. He slammed his shoulder into the closing door – and sent Anne Marie flying to one side before she could lock him out. Hitting her head against the side of the nearest cabinet, the schoolteacher cried out. Her head ached and her vision swan whilst she heard Lady Hanbrook scream and throw all sorts of items at the raging elder who was out to kill her. Harding cursed as embroidery and books struck him, followed by chair cushions. Next, he stumbled over an upturned chair. The next thing Harding knew, a half-recovered Anne Marie had thrown the Hanbrook's family bible at him in her desperation, hitting the back of his head. But despite his injury and brief dizziness he did not lose possession of his silver knife.

Forcing herself up, Anne Marie flung herself at Harding. She grabbed hold of his legs and brought him down upon the carpet. He yelled, and thrashed his legs to free himself – his attention still focused upon Josette Hanbrook, who was now running to the connecting door between her bedroom and the next chamber. Her husband's bedroom.

And then in the next moment Harding had dropped his knife onto the carpet, allowing himself the opportunity to push himself hard from underneath Anne Marie's weight – causing them to roll over whilst still entangled together. She yelled as the reverend's legs and feet respectively pressed down on her face and chest. Letting go as a kick winded her, Anne Marie heard Harding's contemptuously muttered "Lightweight".

He got up in time to see the titian-furred wolf race along the landing towards him, overtaking Lord Hanbrook. Its fangs were bared with the promise of murder…

"Devil's spawn!" Harding rasped. He turned and staggered towards the nearest set of curtains, just as the wolf barreled into the bedroom.

The sudden burst of the sunrise as Harding yanked the curtains apart, led to the candle-lit room being illuminated further by the light of daybreak. The wolf yelped and crashed into the dressing table after its leap – just missing the dodging reverend. He, Anne Marie, and Lord and Lady Hanbrook then all watched in amazement from their respective positions as the form of the wolf blurred and shifted. The heavy forepaws altered – the fur receding into hands that turned pink even as the talons vanished and the digits and dew claws became fingers and thumbs. The four legs lost their fur and reformed themselves into the smooth, hairless arms and legs of a young woman. The tail shrank out of sight, and the muzzle was pulled back into the face of the creature at the same time as the twitching whiskers, fangs, and black leathery nose vanished – and eventually the transformation resulted in the revelation of a slender, gingery-brown-haired girl who was sprawled out on her stomach, on top of the wreckage of the dressing table. She moaned and lifted her lightly-freckled face, which turned a shade red as she regarded the horrified expression of her mother and realized that she now felt naked with the loss of her fur.

"Oh… I suddenly feel so…drained," Lucy croaked.

"No…! Lu-Lucinda… You are…!" Lady Hanbrook's hand flew to her gaping mouth in her horror.

"…un loup garou," breathed Anne Marie.

"Devilspawn! Even my half-sister!" Harding snarled.

"H-half sis-sister?" Lucy spluttered, gaping first at the reverend, then her mother, and finally her father.

"I am sorry, Lucinda… It is true," Lady Hanbrook confessed, shaking. Then she stepped fully into the doorway between the bedrooms, revealing the pistol that her husband kept in his bedroom, in case of intruders. "Surrender, Elijah! Do not make me…"

She trailed off as a breeze picked up within her bedroom, snuffing out the candle. The dawn light that was now beginning to flood that side of the house was suddenly joined by another source of illumination, as something _rippled_ into existence in the air, just above head-height next to the doorway leading to Lord Hanbrook's bedroom, announcing its arrival with a brief distortion of sound. Anne Marie looked on in wonder, trying to comprehend what she and the others were seeing. It was something like the swirling of water within a hand basin, but the image was vertically-inclined, and colored. Blue at the outer edges and yellow at the centre. The core of the swirl was like the sun. Colored gas? The thing slowly spun anti-clockwise - the illumination varied slightly in its brilliance as it did so.

Anne Marie's gaze flicked to the people standing nearest to it. The long sleeves of Lady Hanbrook's nightgown were being tugged towards the twisting mass, as was her unpinned dark ginger hair.

A subtle roar of displaced air was slowly turning louder…

"Keep away from it! It is growing…," Anne Marie warned the three elders.

The phenomena abruptly expanded with a repetition of the rippling distortion of sound in the room. For a moment, the school teacher could not hear the cries of the elders – only see their gaping mouths. Then Harding's wail reached her ears.

"-vilry! 'Tis the lighted gate! The Gargoyle told me of _their_ magik…"

Abruptly, Lady Hanbrook had the pistol snatched out of her hand by the increasing pull of the unnatural whirlpool before her. Crying out, she collapsed upon the floor and tried to pull herself along the floor to avoid being sucked into the lighted gate. The pistol had spun into the centre of the whirlpool and rapidly shrunk to a pinhead, before vanishing. But the phenomena remained constant in its spinning.

'Lighted gate'… It was a portal of magik, Anne Marie reasoned. But to where…?

With a cry of rage, Harding snatched up his knife again and dodged around the materialization as he made a final bid to kill Lady Hanbrook. But he was soon grabbed from behind by Lord Hanbrook.

"Let me go! Damn you…"

"You will kill no one, Elijah! You have done enough evil…!" Lord Hanbrook spat, barely managing to hold the madman back with all of his remaining strength. He glanced at the lighted gate and felt its pull increase on them. His remaining hair was now standing on end, and his torn jacket was flapping at the edges. In the next instant, Harding's powdered wig was abruptly snatched from his head, leaving his bald spot exposed.

His lordship exchanged frightened glances with his wife, then with his daughter and Anne Marie.

"On-ly way now. I love you… Josette… Lucy…," he gasped.

" _George! No!"_

"Father!"

Harding screamed as Lord Hanbrook used his greater weight to pull the reverend towards the magical materialization. In the next instant, they were suddenly – and violently – snatched into the swirling mass. Then the cries of the two men were silenced as the whirlpool of magik collapsed in upon itself instantly. There was another ripple of distorted sound – and then the lighted gate was completely gone, leaving behind only the three women – one of whom was too stunned to move or even speak, whilst Lucy pulled herself out of her grasp and met Lady Hanbrook halfway, at the spot where George Hanbrook had made his sacrifice to save his family. Mother and daughter clung to each other tightly, as their tears mingled on their pressed cheeks…

The sense of being watched made the hairs on Anne Marie's neck tingle. Spinning round, she was just in time to see the bat launch itself from the frame of the window behind her and fly away. The schoolteacher blinked in disbelief as she tried to process the image.

Had she really seen a ruby amulet hanging from a cord wrapped around its neck…?

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 _I only wanted to see my old friend…, and celebrate my new-found freedom… To experience some adventure!_

Isabella stopped at the doorway that took her from the dining room and into the ballroom. As she wheezed and forced her lungs to keep working, she took in the devastation that had been left behind. All of the Grotesques were now dead – sprawled across the wooden floorboards. So too were the Feral Kin… No, wait. One small male was still. But two other ones – who must have been an adolescent boy and a younger girl, before they were bitten and converted by the Shadow Witch's magic… They too were down, but the female was now whimpering as it bleed – and the other was crawling over to lick at her wounds. The two lupine creatures nuzzled each other and whined as they gazed at the adult bodies of their kindred beings.

Despite her disgust for what she knew the Feral Kin had previously done, Isabella felt a stab of pity in her hardening heart for them.

Her whole body was hardening. The stiffness and pain from the parts of her that had been cursed by the Gargoyle's touch were spreading, becoming more agonizing. In her panic, Isabella now ripped at her black lace sleeves – only to see a sight that had almost made her stop breathing altogether.

Her arms were turning gray and stony.

… _Belong To Me, Now. Come To Me…, My New Servant,_ an inhuman voice whispered in her head, making Isabella gasp out in horror. _Help Me To Overcome The Men…Attacking Me…_

"Belong to you… Yes… _No!_ " Isabella raised her stiff arms to her face, and cried out as alien thoughts flooded into her mind. Her… _master_ …had staggered in agony from the ballroom as the Grotesques were falling dead – only to be hounded by the wolf man, plus the Inspector and the soldier. They were now all fighting to the death in the hallway, at the base of the main stairwell. She could save the Gargoyle. Use her new-found strength to throttle those who dared to harm it. Her remade form would be more resilient to bullets and any blade – and she would be impervious to the passing of the years in her dutiful service…

Before she knew it, her heavy legs were moving underneath her full-length dark skirt as if with a mind of their own – carrying her through the open doorway that took her into the wood-paneled corridor and towards the widest part of the hallway at the foot of the stairwell. She crawled on, pressing her hands against the walls to aid her balance and pace.

Slowly, the agony within her increased, making Isabella grit her teeth as she shuddered. She would not scream. She would… Yes, she would use the pain to draw focus upon. The faces of Heidi and Gustav filled her mind's eye, staring at her with accusing eyes. She had failed them – but she would not fail this time…

 _Come To Me! Defend Your Master…!_ The Gargoyle's mental command stabbed into her mind – making her stop. The noblewoman's eyes became glazed.

"I am…on my way…, master," Isabella breathed, feeling sweat pour from her face as she exerted herself and pressed on.

In the centre of the hallway, Inspector Cooke, Karl, and the wolf man surrounded the snarling Gargoyle as best they could – trapping the monster where it was. It had discovered for itself that its wings were now useless – and its bulk prevented it from climbing the staircase behind it. Instead, it continued to roar and lash out with all the malice, angry and fury that it still possessed. A cornered beast that was determined to crush its hunters and stride over their bodies to freedom once more…

Now, as Isabella watched whilst she dragged herself on, the Gargoyle punched the wolf man in the stomach, arresting his vicious attack. Then the fiend slashed its lupine opponent's face, before swatting him aside. He crashed into a painting of a previous Hanbrook on the nearest paneled wall, and slumped to the floor. The string broke on its hook, and the painting fell on top of the werewolf, striking his head. He tried to crawl out from underneath the painting, just as the dawn sunlight streaked through a window on the stairwell landing, illuminating the hallway. The wolf man gave a wail as the light lit his face, and he slumped onto the floor.

Inspector Cooke twisted himself round upon hearing the piercing cry. Before his spellbound gaze, the lupine features of his unexpected ally blurred and _shifted_ – the muzzle and fangs receding as the bones and teeth gradually reassumed human form. The pointed ears now changed too, as they moved down the sides of the head, to assume the shape of normal human ears – whilst the facial fur vanished, leaving behind the round face of a man aged in his fifties, with a balding head and large tuffs of hair residing on his jaw line. He was bleeding from a gash to his temple, and he did not stir. The furred arm that was flung out from underneath the fallen portrait lost all of its brown coating, as the hairs shrank back into their pores.

Then Cooke spun back to Karl, upon hearing the ex-soldier being finally slashed by the Gargoyle – having avoided most of the monster's attacks against him up to that point. Between the two of them, Cooke and Karl had fought with the Inspector's pistol, a pair of large kitchen knives – plus a hammer and bed pan that the awakened Selena had hurriedly gathered and passed onto Cooke during his flying visit to the kitchen. But despite their weapons and their determination, Cooke was panicking with his fighting companions falling down to the left and right of him…

"Mr Harrison…!" Cooke cried out.

"It's just a scratch. I've had worse," Karl said through clenched teeth, as he dropped Cooke's pistol and pressed the palm of his hand against the wound running across his damaged shirt. He was now on his knees. Then Karl took in the grinning Gargoyle, his eyes widening with fear. Cooke followed his gaze. The monster's taloned hands were pressed against its many wounds. A glow emanated from those hands, bathing the blue-white flesh with magik. Seconds later, the hands were removed – to reveal freshly-healed skin.

The blasted fiend had somehow reinvigorated itself magically. Cooke cursed to himself.

"Inspector! Quick! Grab the pistol…," Karl gasped out, his eyes flicking upwards. Cooke immediately saw what Karl was driving at, and he snatched up the loaded gun – before composing himself and taking careful aim…

The shoot struck the support of the chandelier, right on target. Startled, the Gargoyle jerked its face upwards – just in time to see the circular arrangement of candles and candleholders crash down upon it, the framework breaking into sharp wooden fragments in the process.

The Gargoyle screeched as its skin was pierced in several pieces. Also, some of the candles had been burning low – and the villain screamed as it fought to put out the small flames that had ignited already-burnt skin…

And with its attention diverted, the Gargoyle's psychic commands lessened – enabling Isabella the reprieve that she needed to tear herself away from Karl and Inspector Cooke. Instead, she forced herself up the stairs, finding it harder with each step to move her legs and feet without crying out her anguish, or even breathe properly…

"Lady Is-," Cooke whispered, seeing her ascend the stairs, her face deadly pale, her arms stone-like where the flesh was showing through the gaps in her torn clothing. Then Karl diverted him, by pulling himself upon his feet and throwing the pan at the Gargoyle.

"Keep fighting it, Inspector!" Karl urged him. "Don't stop now!"

Cooke took the hint, and whilst the Gargoyle turned its back to him as it regarded Karl, the Inspector dived forward and buried his knife into the monster's back. A dawning suspicion arose in Cooke's mind. Karl had realized that Isabella was about to do something. Something that would only work if they kept the Gargoyle's attention on them, and not her…

The Gargoyle screamed, twisted round, and lashed out with its fists, striking Cooke in the face and sending him spinning into the paneled wall underneath the stairwell. Then the creature turned, managed to seize Karl as he drew in close with a knife, and twisted his arm, making the ex-soldier drop his weapon as his face contorted with the pain.

" _You Were Left To Feed The Offspring Of My Creations!"_ the Gargoyle hissed in Karl's mind. _"Now You Will Serve As_ My _Nourishment, Instead…"_ Its hands glowed as it summoned its magik, in preparation for turning Karl into a drained husk…

"Forgive me…for my sins, Inspector…, Mr Harrison," Isabella croaked as she managed to reach the landing at a point directly above the Gargoyle. She leaned over the wooden banister.

"Isabella…? NO!" Cooke hollered. Despite his bleeding injuries and aching head, he was just able to perceive what she was doing from where he had fallen.

"Pray for my soul…"

The Gargoyle froze and jerked its eyes upwards, to take in the sight of Isabella von Took, her clothes and face slowly turning to stone. It screamed with such fury that all three of the humans present heard its words in their heads.

" _No, Slave! I Command You…!"_

Isabella stared at the Gargoyle with disgust. "I am…nobody's…slave!" she spat. Then her expression turned rigid. With the last ounce of her strength and willpower mustered for her spirited attack, she flipped herself over the banister – and fell straight down.

Karl yelled and managed to yank himself free, before he stumbled and tripped over his stone-touched leg.

The noise of the impact resounded through the hallway and surrounding rooms, temporarily deafening the two men who were still conscious. A gray rain of shards and debris struck Karl and Cooke, adding to their injuries.

Seconds later, the shockwave had dispersed. The two men groaned and wiped away the dust and blood on their faces. They then forced themselves to look at where Isabella had struck the Gargoyle with her last weapon - the weight of her transforming body.

The Gargoyle lay in pieces like a broken statue, all around the hallway. So too did Isabella…

A pounding of feet reached the recovering ears of Karl and Inspector Cooke. They saw Anne Marie halting half way along the lowest flight of the stairs, staring at the scene in horror.

"Mon dieu! Isabella…"

"She saved us… She has regained her lost honor…," Cooke breathed.

"Oh! You men need a doctor – or a nurse!" Anne Marie rushed down to them – then yelled for assistance.

"Anne Marie… What about Reverend Harding? Lucy and her parents – are they…?"

"Karl, I… I am not sure 'ow to explain what 'appened…"

"But… Lucy… Is she safe?" he pressed the schoolteacher.

"I am here, Karl," Lucy called out from the staircase. One hand held tightly onto the large blanket that was wrapped around her. The sun shone at an angle through the window close behind her, the rays falling upon the freckles that were one of the many reasons why Karl found her adorable. She gave a sad smile – then she rushed down and embraced Karl. The two of them wept tears of joy. Then Karl yelped.

"I-I'm sorry! Where d-did I hurt you…?" Lucy stammered.

"No! It's not you. The Gargoyle cursed me, like it cursed you. My leg – it is tingling…"

Lucy rolled up the leg of Karl's military pants, and gasped. She, Karl, Anne Marie and Cooke all stared with disbelief as the gray skin on Karl's leg slowly faded away – the magical infliction now dispersing with the destruction of the Gargoyle.

Moments later, the butler and Selena burst into the hallway from within the house, to offer aid to the five heroes in the hallway, accompanied by Ben and another militia guard as they set about searching the house for any further dangers.

But the dangers and darkness had now been successfully held back. For the time being, at least, Cooke considered ruefully as he stared again at the collective broken masonry that had recently been a woman who had investigated and fought alongside him…


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty One:**

 **No One Is Safe**

 **The Marsh and The Abandoned Keep:**

Reverend Elijah Harding ducked and ran for his life, as the spectral soldiers at the marsh fired at his head.

He was not certain what had happened to him when he and Lord Hanbrook had been sucked into the whirlpool of light – only that the power behind the manifestation had not been godly. The two men had spun out of control within the spiral, which then flickered in and out of existence – as if the phenomena had demanded great power, and there had been an insufficient quantity of it. Tears or rips had actually opened up within the tunnel of…whatever the manifestation had been. Then Lord Hanbrook had managed to break the stranglehold Harding had employed on him, and the two elders had drifted apart, screaming. The last glimpse Harding had of Hanbrook was his plump figure spinning into the distance within the whirlpool of light – before he himself had fallen through one of the rips.

There had been a moment of roaring sound and blazing light that had assaulted his senses, making him cry out in despair as he prayed for deliverance.

Then it all abruptly ended – only for Harding to fall a few meters out of mid-air and land in the marsh.

Spluttering and coughing the mud and water out of his system, his reverence saw above him the tear in reality that he had fallen through seal itself up and wink out of existence. It took a minute or so for him to overcome his shock enough for him to realize that it was still not long after dawn, with mist all around him. And that he was in the marsh just south of Shadowbrook. His growing fears were then realized as the ghost soldiers began to yell out a challenge to him – their voice ringing out with increasing clarity in the moments before they materialized all around and started to march closer, in order to trap him…

Yelling, Harding started his flight of running, slipping, and wading through the mud and weeds and filthy water in order to escape the spectral soldiers.

" 'Tis Bartlett's work – those souls being here! Curse her!" he hollered. With a mud-drenched hand, he pulled out the crucifix that he wore over his black tunic – making the nearest bearded, green-glowing soldier freeze in his tracks and glare at him with hatred.

Eventually, the exhausted Harding was able to reach the ruins of the abandoned keep that had been his beacon of hope amidst the marshy mists as he sought to find a way out. Given his pounding headache - thanks to that schoolteacher throwing that bible at him - Harding barely noticed his white wig slipping off his sweat-drenched head and landing on the side of the road…

"Merciful lord!" he gasped, as he forced himself onto the most broken corner of the fortress, unable to stagger much further. He needed fresh water, rest, a wash, and a complete change of clothes as soon as he could grab any. He also needed a new plan. He had feel a stab of pain in his mind earlier whilst grappling with Lord Hanbrook in the whirlpool of light – a severance of the mental link between him and the Gargoyle…

He stumbled into the small pool of rainwater that was situated here – water that had leaked through the cracked ceiling above. The pool lay in a dip next to some vines that had grown through the empty window spaces, Harding gasped and splashed his lined face and short dark hair, savoring the wonderful feel of the water against his mud-streaked face. It was inconceivable, but if the Gargoyle was truly dead…

"What do I do now…?" he croaked to himself as he rested in the shade of the ruined wing of the fortress. He knew that the Grotesques and the living statues were dependent on the supernatural power of the Gargoyle. They would all become lifeless lumps of stone again.

As he lowered his hands, Harding shrieked. A painfully-thin cat was sat on a low stone wall, on the opposite side of the pool, glaring balefully at him. Suddenly, a green aura surrounded it.

"No!" he yelled. He was about to stride forward and throttle the hated animal – but found vines suddenly encircling themselves around his arms, legs, and neck…

Moments later, he was pulled back by the vines towards the pair of trees behind him on the other side of the window space, pinning him against the remaining stonework. Harding fought to free himself, his heart pounding furiously – but he was too weak now…

The green glow around Solomon expanded. The image of an ethereal, floating, hooded woman took form within the unearthly light. Her eyes were accusing, her smirk mocking, her lips widening in triumph.

"We meet again, Elijah Harding…," she purred.

"B-Bartlett!" he gasped.

"Today is the first anniversary of my death. I told all of you that I would rise again and have my revenge – remember?" the Shadow Witch's voice turned cold, frosty. "You elders failed to honor the agreement we made to spare my life for my killing the Delion Dryad. And now finally, despite the interlopers, and despite the death of my brother, I still have enough energy to carry out my revenge on you, reverend."

"Spare me…!" Harding croaked as the animated vine dug into his throat, making the skin bleed. He could not break it. Could not prise it away…

"Spare you?" the specter of Elaine Bartlett gave a small, heartless, barking laugh. "Oh no. You did not spare me when you were amongst the most vocal amongst the elders in calling for my hanging. And yet, since then you have allied yourself with a creature of malice that you hoped would protect you from me. You helped to cause the deaths of several _innocent_ people, Harding. Hypocrisy revealed. No one is safe amongst the elders of either Shadowbrook or Tidewater. Not from myself. And now _your_ hanging will _empower me!_ "

The Reverend Harding saw Bartlett tightly clench her transparent fists. Immediately, the vines dug harder around his legs, wrists, and neck. His eyes bulged as it became harder and harder to breath. The world around him began to dim, until all he could see was The Shadow Witch stroking the purring Solomon, as they both watched him slowly choke and perish…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Shadowbrook:**

As evening fell, Sophie O'Hare climbed the short ladder she had put in place and knocked on the hatch to her attic.

"Dinnertime," she called out.

Hearing the woman's voice on the other side, Sophie retreated to the floor below. Then her hidden guest opened the hatch from her side and climbed down.

"Dear god! You still look tired…"

"We both are, Sophie. That ritual of protection we cast around Shadowbrook drained me, in particular. I am sorry that I could not maintain it long enough…"

Sophie held up her hand. "We both did what we could. Alas, I also was too exhausted after fighting off both the Grotesques and the Feral Kin. Consequently, I was unable to be present at the final confrontations with either Major Bruckner or that Gargoyle."

"But you think that I still need to hide away – not just to rest, Sophie?" the darker-haired lady asked.

The blonde midwife nodded. "Elaine Bartlett has been defeated – but I fear that she is still bound to this world. She will try again to eliminate as many of the elders of Shadowbrook and Tidewater as she can take down. And…"

"And…?"

Sophie bit her lip. "News of what happened to this town is beginning to reach the ears of…learned people. The Sanctum of the Moebius Malus… They will send someone here. My meditation has provided me with a glimpse of this fact. When? I do not yet know."

"Dear spirits, no… If it is Eliza…" Sophie's guest nervously tugged on a lock of her wavy hair. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"You can leave if you…"

"No, Sophie. I will continue to hide – but I will not run! You have taken me under your wing, and I am grateful to you. I will stay and help you, in readiness to face…"

"I fear that Elaine is too powerful for you, my kindred-sister. No disrespect intended," Sophie carefully told her friend. "However, we must be prepared in case other terrors arise. I sense that you will soon find your path, and the role that you must play."

The other woman slowly nodded in acceptance. "Those strangers you told me about… They could prove to be useful again," she considered thoughtfully. Then she snapped back to the moment at hand. "Let's eat, for now! Continue to build up our strength. We will worry, and study, later."

Sophie chuckled and patted her arm as they walked downstairs towards the smell of the prepared hot meal awaiting them.

"Agreed. You are a bright witch, Sara," she declared.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Manor:**

As Lucy walked arm in arm with Karl into the gardens of Hanbrook Manor, she stopped and looked back. As expected, her mother's disapproving face was at one of the upstairs windows. Then, seeing both her daughter and Karl glancing back at her, Lady Josette Hanbrook slipped out of sight.

Lucy sighed, and rested her head on Karl's shoulder.

"She does not want to lose you to me – especially, given…your father's disappearance this morning," Karl remarked softly.

"I know – and she is also upset that I am no longer…entirely human, Karl. But what can we do about it? Doctor Manning might be able to cure me – but he, Doctor Cochrane, and that Doctor Edwards from Tidewater have had more urgent cases to deal with. And…"

"…you are not certain if a cure is the right choice for you, right now," Karl concluded.

Lucy looked straight into his eyes. "No," she admitted, blushing. "Thanks to Mr Morgan guiding me, and our bond of friendship…, I was able to develop control over my wolf, last night."

"Impressively so, as well," Karl added. "You and Harlow managed to kill Major Bruckner between you. The people of Shadowbrook would be grateful to you both, if they knew who had rid them of the beast that Bruckner was."

Lucy tensed. She raised her head, and looked over the gardens – now caught in the lengthening shadows of the evening. The first evening following the deaths of Bruckner and the Gargoyle. Sunset would fall within the hour. The gibbous moon would soon rise above the horizon. But Harlow had already told her that their…breed…of werewolves were only forced to change on the nights when the skies were clear and the moon was exactly - not nearly - full. It was of some comfort, but…

In a quiet voice, she announced: "But I am a killer now, Karl. A monster. And yet – whilst I am scared by what has happened to me, a part of me is…delighted…as well. I felt so free, running with Harlow in the night on my paws – reveling in the incredible senses that threatened to overwhelm me… I even enjoyed my first hunt, my first kill! And now that I have proved myself strong enough to defeat another werewolf – even though it was not me alone who did so – who will be strong enough to defeat me, if…if I lose control?"

Karl's sad eyes saw the tears on Lucy's freckled cheek. He gently pulled her to him and hugged her – then gave her his handkerchief in order to wipe her face as her sniffles ended.

"You will not lose control," he told her. "You are Lucy Hanbrook – one of the champions of Shadowbrook. And you have both me and Harlow Morgan to support you, Lucy. Never doubt that. Never doubt yourself. That creature which tried to corrupt you at the windmill is dead. It is up to you now to make your own path in life. Not your mother, not anyone else. Just you."

Lucy nodded, appreciating Karl's words and his embrace – but still not being entirely convinced. After all, for as long as the blood of the wolf was within her, she would be a child of the moon – answering her call at least once a month, alongside Harlow.

"Thank you." She patted Karl's bearded cheek. "We had better join the others."

"Neither you nor Harlow have retrieved your clothes from last night yet," Karl pointed out.

"True… But we have been too preoccupied with everything else that has happened," Lucy answered. "The deaths. The damage to the manor and to the town..." She gave a sly smile. "I'll get Harlow to retrieve our clothes tomorrow. He knows where the cave is, after all!"

Taking his hand again, Lucy led her soldier into the maze, and guided him to the centre – where Inspector Cooke, Harlow Morgan (wearing a spare pair of spectacles retrieved from his workshop), Victor, and Anne Marie were already gathered. She joined the school teacher and playwright on the bench and shared smiles with them. Then she exchanged nods and smiles with Harlow Morgan, who stood next to the grim-faced Inspector Cooke, who was guarding the exit from the centre of the maze, occasionally watching and listening out for any uninvited people who might be lurking. For his part, Karl took up his post at the entrance to the maze's centre – likewise staying alert.

Lucy beamed. Her retired soldier was now carrying a second saber from the manor's collection – to replace the one broken outside the windmill. This time, Lady Hanbrook had assented to Lucy's insistence that Karl should have it.

"An elegant weapon for an elegant man," the younger Hanbrook had declared.

Her eyes swept across the group. All of them bore bandages and injuries somewhere about their persons. All of them were still fatigued and mentally shaken from their experiences. She hoped that each of them could recover as well as was possible. Given enough time. For her, it would be a more complicated journey of the soul. At least she had the experience of Harlow Morgan to draw upon, whilst she traveled with him on that particular moonlit road…

"Well… We are now all gathered…," Cooke declared.

"Pardon, Inspector. I propose a minute of silence for all those who 'ave fallen," Anne Marie suggested. "Including Isabella and her entourage…"

"…and Thomas," Karl added.

"…and the Scarlet Shadow," Victor elaborated.

"Sergeant Allardyce," Cooke muttered.

"And for all those missing – such as Katarina Clark and my dear father," Lucy finished the listing. She was glad to able to place a name to the werewolf who had been swept downriver from the covered bridge before she and Harlow had fought Brookner. The group of survivors had started to share information between themselves.

They all bowed their heads. After a while, Cooke – who had been counting the seconds – declared an end to the minute, and a beginning to business.

The discussion was long and varied. Inspector Cooke reported on what he had learned from Captain Townsend, Ben Summersby, and the rest of the town militia. Apart from the unnatural abduction of Lord Hanbrook and Reverend Harding, the remaining town elders were still alive and present in Shadowbrook. The last few reported Living Statues and Grotesques around Shadowbrook had abruptly halted in their attacks upon the militia and civilians, and had then suddenly broke apart into grains of tiny stones and dust at the time of the Gargoyle's death – indicating that the minions had been somehow magically linked to the villain.

Cooke had already told Karl that he had destroyed the statue of Thomas Harrow – as well as the implication that the courier had still been 'alive' in his changed body and thus under the Gargoyle's will. Karl had allowed this to sink in, before thanking the Inspector for setting Thomas's soul free.

As for the other army that had besieged Shadowbrook – that of the Feral Kin, only two of them were left now. Victor had identified the juvenile male as Jack, whilst Anne Marie (to her horror) had worked out the young female wolf-creature's identity when she had whined upon seeing the school teacher after the battle at the Manor. She had whined again upon Anne Marie's gasp of 'Gillian?'.

Both the schoolgirl and the youngest member of the Scarlet Shadow's outlaws showed no signs of returning to their previous forms of girl and boy – and both now seemed to have minds that were more wolf than human. They responded to their names being called, but were unable to speak. Harlow declared his belief that with the death of Bruckner, the pair was no longer under the Shadow Witch's control – but that her magik, cast over them, was irreversible. They would be human-shaped wolves for the rest of their lives, fiercely loyal to each other – and tolerating only the presence of Anne Marie; and their new pack master and mistress, Harlow and Lucy.

Cooke had earlier wanted the lupine children taken away to Boston – as well as having Lady Hanbrook arrested for the poisoning of the Reverend Joseph Harding. But Harlow and Lucy had argued against this. Instead, Cooke had come to an agreement with the Hanbrooks. To the subdued Lady Hanbrook's disgust, Harlow Morgan would move into the half-derelict wing of Hanbrook Manor, to look after Jack and Gillian there. His new workshop would be set up in another room, now that the wing had been checked and declared free of any more Grotesques or other horrors.

In the meantime, the recovered Delani – now free of any alien influence over her - would move into Miss Palfreyman's quarters and take up cooking duties. The black maid had convinced Cooke that she had been an innocent girl, who had never aided the Gargoyle or Harding of her own free will. And so, Cooke had practically ordered Lady Hanbrook to make the necessary arrangements. Her ladyship had done so, her silent protests still noted by Cooke. The woman's spirit was broken, given the sudden, unnatural abduction of both her husband and the Reverend Harding. Perhaps she feared the manifestation returning in her bedroom at some stage to claim her, the Inspector mused. Moreover, there was still the whereabouts of the murderous Harding to resolve – if he was still alive to threaten her ladyship again, that was.

Still, it was the price that Lady Hanbrook was evidently prepared to pay for her freedom – as opposed to being arrested and tried for the murder she had confessed to during the showdown. Cooke did not like it. But apart from the confession - which Lady Hanbrook was now reluctant to repeat - he suspected that he would find it hard to produce evidence for the crime, committed many years ago. And the bottom line was that there were simply too many other priorities to see to. Also, Cooke was reluctant to deprive Lucy Hanbrook of her remaining parent. The town elders, whether they knew of Lady Hanbrook's crime or not – were also in no mood to have Josette Hanbrook taken from them in the aftermath of the crisis, it seemed…

In the heart of the maze, the group of six heroes continued to share their experiences to each other – in an attempt to join all the jigsaw pieces together to form the complete picture, or as complete as it could be for the time being. However, Anne Marie did not reveal that she had discovered who was behind the fire barrier that had protected Shadowbrook for a while, due to her promise to Sophie. Still, she wondered who would have aided Sophie in her efforts, when she had to rest. Likewise, Victor kept what he knew of Sophie's secret to himself – given that they had fought against enough witchcraft in recent days. He did not want an apparent White Witch arrested and treated as scum, given the grief and anger of the local people as they tried to recover from their tragic loses…

On the other hand, Harlow and Lucy were open enough to inform those not already in the know that they were werewolves – and that Jack and Gillian were now their joint responsibility.

Victor did relate what he had overheard Major Bruckner telling Doctor Manning – that the doctor was hiding a 'disgusting fugitive', as well as relying on the smugglers of Tidewater for medical supplies. Furthermore, he – backed up by Anne Marie – related what Reverend Harding had spoken of in the church crypt. That the Order of the Crimson Hand, whatever it was exactly, was active in the area. That it was supporting the cause of the Ancient One and its demons. And that Harding had been informed by someone, now dead, that one of the town elders was a member of this Order…

When they were done, Victor lit the lantern that he had brought with him and placed it in the centre of the darkening heart of the maze. Yellow-orange light bathed their faces. He winced as he moved, still feeling his bandaged wounds – wounds that he had received from a Living Statue in Shadowbrook that had attacked him and Anne Marie at the Blacksmiths. Isabella had made use of the distraction to run away from them at the time…

"Careful, Victor," Anne Marie urged him.

"Yes… My wounds are still healing. Alas, that is why I could not join the rest of you at Hanbrook Manor in time for that showdown with the Gargoyle." Victor gave the others an embarrassed smile – then faced Anne Marie. "Thank you for your concern, mademoiselle."

She smiled back sheepishly – then her expression turned serious as she addressed the group in general. "I 'ave been doing some studying. I believe that ze whirlpool of light that Lady Hanbrook, Lucy, and I saw was a void – a lighted gate."

"A…what?" Cooke frowned.

"Someone conjured a portal of magik in the manor. That was what sucked in my father and the reverend," Lucy elaborated.

"The same someone who conjured that barrier of flame around Shadowbrook, to defend it?" Cooke asked.

"Possibly. Also…possibly not," Anne Marie carefully replied. "Mais pourquoi? I mean, but why?"

"To abduct my father, or the reverend?" Lucy pointed out.

"Or was the conjurer's aim a little off-course?" Karl ventured. "Was the target actually the Gargoyle?"

Harlow leaned back against the hedge behind him as he rubbed his spectacles on the corner of his jacket before putting them back on. "An interesting theory, Mr Harrison. Why do you think that?"

"Because of the conversation I had with the Gargoyle at the windmill. It told me little of its origins – but spoke of breaking away from 'their will'. I wonder… I wonder if 'they' were attempting to recapture it."

"You mean…that the Gargoyle was created, or brought into this world, to serve someone or something else?" Cooke speculated. "It spoke of something like this, to me, at the Manor."

"That could fit with the vanguard we encountered at the windmill, Karl," Lucy spoke up. "My vision of the tentacled horror… It was something greater than that in the cellar. I feel this to be so."

"So the nightmare over this land is not over – we've just managed to disperse the dark clouds for now," Cooke concluded. "No one is safe. Not really."

"We should remain in the area," Harlow suggested. "But you wish to return to Boston, Inspector…"

"I should, according to the law, be returning to Boston with you – and Miss Lucy – given your…natures… You, in particular, Mr Morgan, killed a couple of men. Granted, they were terrorizing a young lady at the time…" Cooke trailed off, and took a series of deep breaths to calm down. "But the law of this land does not recognize the existence of werewolves. And I am…prepared…to trust you pair to look after each other and stay out of trouble, whilst I return to Boston."

"I will remain in the area to watch out for them – and anything else…unnatural," Karl volunteered.

Cooke faced him – then glanced at Harlow and Lucy. "Really? And if they go wild, or dark, will you be prepared to kill either of them, Mr Harrison? Especially Miss Lucy? I know that you are old friends."

Lucy gasped at Cooke's tone. She saw Karl's throat bob up and down.

"If that is what they request of me, then that is what I will do. If I must," Karl declared solemnly.

Harlow nodded. Lucy looked both worried and relieved at the same time. She rose from the stone bench and walked over to Karl, before embracing him – unable to get her words out. He held her in return, and stroked her long titian-colored hair, sensing her turmoil.

"Ah-hemm…" Victor coughed. "I too will stay in the vicinity. See what help I can provide. Another set of watchful eyes, and all that."

"When the time is right…, I would love to see one of your plays, Monsieur Danforth." Anne Marie flashed him a shy smile. She squeezed his hand, making his heart beat somewhat faster.

"Ah… I will need to contact some of my old actor friends. See if they could perform in this town," he ventured. "In the town hall, perhaps…"

Lucy smiled. "I think we all deserve some reward. Some celebration – despite the loss of Papa. Just make sure it is not around any full moon, Mr Danforth."

"Ah… Yes. Of course not," he huffed.

When the meeting was done, they all broke up and went their separate ways – Lucy and Harlow walked back into the manor, and the others got to ride back to Shadowbrook in the coachman's carriage.

It was only much later that Anne Marie realized that she had totally forgotten about the bat outside the manor's bedroom window…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

After she and Karl had kissed each other goodnight and parted, Lucy retreated quickly to her bedroom, her heart pounding with joy. Karl's kiss to her had been long, gentle and sweet. And her nose… Even in human form, her sense of smell was now stronger. Karl had smelt nervous when he had initiated the kiss. But Lucy had also breathed in his love for her – and that excited her. Excited both aspects of her…

She had hoped that their friendship would grow and develop. Karl had not failed her when she was dying – he had helped to save her life. And in spite of what she had become, despite his having hunted and killed werewolves before, Karl had not turned against her or left her. Instead, he loved her.

If only it hadn't taken them nearly losing each other for her and Karl to develop their mutual feelings, Lucy considered…

The girlish grin on Lucy's face slowly faded as she sat at her dressing table. Her memory of Harlow's suggestion to Karl, to save him from the Gargoyle's Stone Touch, replayed itself in her mind.

"You could…join Lucy and me…"

At first, the thought had chilled Lucy to the bone. She did not want Karl to endure the agony of the transformation. Nor risk him losing control and becoming a monster. She had not chosen her fate – and she did not want Karl to be forced to turn into a creature that he would then loath and hate. But now…

 _Now? In spite of mother's objections, I love Karl,_ she admitted to herself. _But I have become a werewolf – whilst he is still…normal. Can we…actually court…, without me losing control to the wolf within myself, in a moment of passion?_

 _Dear God! I might hurt Karl. Even kill him…!_

Lucy's now somber face stared back at her from the mirror – with only a slight predatory glint in her eyes revealing anything of the beast inside of her. She needed to speak to Harlow about this. How had he coped without love since the death of his wife? How had he fared without companionship after the death of his daughter? And…it might do to for her to form a friendship with Anne Marie Piaget. Lucy had seen…and smelt…the budding attraction between the schoolteacher and the tubby playwright. It was sweet. Perhaps the Frenchwoman could advise her, once she and Anne Marie had got to know each other well enough. Share discussions about the men in their lives, and talk about the welfare of the local children, and many other topics…

 _If only I had a sister! I could confide in her. Another wer-_

 _A soul-sister… Yes, of course..._

Lucy's thoughts flitted once more to the wolf woman who she had last seen being carried away downriver. If only she was still alive…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **The Olde Woods:**

A moaning sound escaped her lips, as her eyelids stopped fluttering and she began to shift her head.

"Try not to move just yet." It was the voice of another woman. Someone older. A voice tinged with an accent that she could not place. A moment later, a damp rag was dabbed against her forehead and face, cooling her. Then, in the light from a candle, the face of the nursemaid was revealed. It was the attractive face of a woman of mixed race – light-brown skin, with a crescent-shape birthmark on her right check. A Romani gypsy from the old world, perhaps? But the eyes… The eyes were pure white.

She gasped. "You're…blind! Wait… I remember. I've seen you around town. You fought a Grotesque with your two staffs! But how…?"

The stranger smiled. "I have my ways. But let us see to you. I have some water and food that I can share with you…"

A minute later, the younger lady – having had her fill for now – allowed her eyes to take in the cool cave around them. The dripping pool at one end. And the abandoned piles of clothes, including a pair of spectacles…

She sniffed the air and drew in a sharp breath. Yes, it was the lingering scent of wolves, hours old. But she knew what the combined clues meant…

"What happened to me?" she snapped. "I mean, after I fell into the river!"

"You had nearly drowned, I think, when I was fortunate enough to come across you, south of the marsh. You had enough life left in you to grab hold of my staff," her rescuer answered. She chose her next words carefully. "Then came the dawn."

"Then…you know what…I am now."

"Yes. My hearing and my other senses told me enough as you transformed back to human form. Also, all of your wounds healed quickly – as is the nature of your kind. So…you are a young wolf."

"Yeah. I've been recently cursed." She sniffed.

"My name is Adriana. I am a traveler. What is your name, young one? What do you do?"

"Katarina. Katarina Clark. I'm an outlaw… Or, rather I was. Now my gang is all dead. My lover… Godammit! Darcius is dead. I had to kill him!" Katarina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Adrianne pressed her hand against Katarina's shoulder to comfort her, but otherwise let her be.

Minutes later, Katarina realized that she was wearing nothing but the blanket that Adrianna had draped over her. Underneath her was the rocky floor of the cave.

"Um… Clothes…," Katarina muttered in embarrassment.

"I will see if any of my spare garments will fit you, Katarina," Adrianna declared. She gave a closed-mouth smile. "At some stage, the people who left their clothes in this cave before our arrival will want their possessions back. Perhaps they have died. Or maybe they have been too busy to think about retrieving their clothes, just yet."

"They're…werewolves. I think I even recognize the style of the lady's dress…"

"Maybe they can help you. I understand that the werewolf who had laid siege to Shadowbrook is now dead."

"Really…?! I'm sure glad to hear that – especially as he nearly killed me… But, I… I don't want to meet any other werewolves just yet! I better get out of here! I need time… Time to think things over. I need to be away from people… I'm… I'm dangerous now. Deadly. Waitaminute… Why aren't you afraid of me?"

Adrianna's impassive expression turned serious as she twisted her face slightly to one side.

"You are dangerous to others, Katarina Clark – yes. But not to me, and I sense that you are still needed. The darkness has abated for now – but there are further clouds of evil on the distant, and not-so-distant, horizon. The people of this area need heroes to protect them, guide them. You are one of the many candles that will provide light in the darkness that will return again. Just as night must follow day."

Katarina rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Oh, great! You're a seer."

Adrianna grinned. "No – not a seer. However, I am more than you realize. But if you truly do not want to seek help from others of your kind, and wish to hide away from humanity – will you at least allow me to help you to find a new hideout? Help you to start to find your way in the new life that you must live?"

"Well… This just got interesting!" Katarina was tempted to refuse – but then she relented. "Yeah. Alright… Thanks. Once I'm dressed and had a bit more food and drink, that is. After all, a girl's gotta eat!"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **Undisclosed location:**

The wooden door was shut to, the vibration ringing through the torch-lit circular chamber for several seconds before fading away, to be replaced by the footsteps of the hooded and cloaked figure upon the floor.

Other, similarly-attired figures sat behind their desks – but their cloaks were all red, in comparison to the newcomer, whose red garb was edged with black.

Another of the assembled company stepped out from the grandest desk – which was raised like a magistrate's. This final person was dressed entirely in black, and they stepped out onto the marble floor, which bore hideous designs on it, to greet the newcomer.

"You are late, friend. It is not good to keep us waiting so lo-"

 _SLAP!_

There was a gasp from the dozen hooded people around them, as their leader was struck by the raised hand of the newcomer.

"You dare…!" The leader drew in breath.

"You all messed up! The lighted gate appeared on the floor _above_ where the Gargoyle was!" the newcomer hissed. "I saw the results. Now we have witnesses who saw the void appear!"

The leader rubbed the slap mark, and considered this news. The urge to respond with further anger was repressed. Then the leader stepped back and gave a brief bow – submitting to the newcomer.

"I see…"

"And for your information, I was caught up in business with the other town elders. Such as clearing up the fall-out and mess caused by the Gargoyle and its creations. Something that should not have been _necessary_ in the first place, if it had not been for certain incompetents within this esteemed company! I came here when I could. Do not dare to speak to me the same way again!"

"M-my apologies, elder. The creation of the void was a desperate gamble on our part – an attempt to recapture the Gargoyle before it could possibly be held captive by the interlopers. It could have given information about us – and we were not prepared to risk that. Unfortunately, the creation of the void demanded more power and control than we anticipated, and consequently we were unable to then stabilize it. We will learn from this and practice further until we achieve perfection. So now, we hav-"

The hooded elder raised a gloved hand and motioned for silence.

"I am aware of what has happened. What is most important is this - the Gargoyle is now dead. So too is Major Bruckner. Shadowbrook and Tidewater can still be ours – but now the local people will not be so easily taken by surprise. Not that they now all know of what the night can bring – thanks to that accursed Shadow Witch and her brother, and thanks to you all losing control of the Gargoyle, who escaped from its cage!"

There were mutterings all around from the company at the news the newcomer had brought to them. One of them – the deputy - spoke up.

"What about Harding? He slipped through a tear in the fabric of the lighted gate."

The newcomer's lips curled with distaste. "He has evaded us! Nothing has yet been found of him by the militia. They will continue to search. In the meantime…"

The elder in black and red strode to the very centre of the chamber and raised their voice, addressing the rest of the gathered.

"In the meantime, we must beware of those who the people of Shadowbrook now regard as heroes! They may prove to be thorns in our sides, as the Great Plan slowly becomes reality. I believe that one has already slaughtered a vanguard of our god?"

"Unfortunately, that is so," the deputy admitted.

The leader in black garb bowed. "We understand your concerns. Fear not, elder. If need be, we will eliminate them. We are many, after all – and we have many means of removing any who stand in the way of the Crimson Hand!"

"Power to the Hand!" the gathered assembly intoned, as one.

The elder regarded the pointed nose masks of the ranks for a moment, before turning back to the leader, who instead worn the mask of a demon. "For now, I suggest that all of your members build upon their magical power and resources. The Crimson Hand would be best to keep a low profile – until our plans are ready to be put into motion. The actions of the Gargoyle and the Shadow Witch have delayed us – and I sense that the Shadow Witch will return again to plague everyone who refuses to bow down before her!"

The leader slowly nodded in agreement. "What will you do in the meantime, elder?"

"Most of those would-be-heroes who survived are staying in the vicinity. I will learn what I can about them. See how they can be weakened and exploited. I am already looking forward to making a meal out of some of them…" The elder smiled widely, laughed, and carefully ran a tongue in anticipation against the fangs that were positioned just above.

They were the bared fangs of a vampire…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

 **That's the end of Book 1. I hope you have enjoyed this story. Please review!**

The Elders – Secrets cards revealed (so far…):

 **Lord Hanbrook** –

On The Hunt

 **Lady Hanbrook** –

Guilty Conscience (She committed murder during the War of Independence)

 **Doctor Manning** –

Werewolf Scratch (He is also hiding someone, as Bruckner declared to him, as Victor eavesdropped)

 **Sophie, the midwife** –

Witchcraft

 **Reverend Harding** –

Secret Madness & Shadow's Puppet

 **Magistrate Kroft** –

Inner Strength & Coward

 **The Harbormaster** of Tidewater –

War Criminal (hinted at in Chapter 14, by Mayor Carver's letter to Lord Hanbrook)


End file.
